


Through Glass

by snakebiteheart



Category: The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Drinking, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating will change, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakebiteheart/pseuds/snakebiteheart
Summary: "Behind the veil of flamboyant theatrics, he exuded a very real kind of power. The stage's pastel-painted backdrop of a fairytale Kingdom looked nothing like his own, but with a tiger on a chain in one hand, and an axe-wielding titan at his shoulder, he seemed more than capable of ruling both."..[Set roughly a year and a bit before S7, but we'll get there!]
Relationships: Ezekiel (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	1. Get Out Alive

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have _finally_ decided to share this fic with the world! I've started, and re-started the story about four times, but I'm pretty happy with where it's at now. There are a lot of OC's at the moment, but I _do_ plan on seeing this all the way through the big canon scenes. Your favs are coming, they just won't be here for a while. I will be updating tags as I go along, so keep an eye out!  
> Ezekiel (and the entirety of the Kingdom tbh) are so underrated and they all deserved better :( The bright side is that we have a lot of freedom to fill in those blanks, so... yeah... this is the result of that. Enjoy! x

_-  
_ _If I go, I can only hope that I'll make it to the other side._  
-

Branches whipped at Violet’s face, one of which tore the skin on her cheek and drew blood. She hissed at the sting, but the adrenaline pounding through her veins worked like novocaine, dulling the pain in a single heartbeat. The undergrowth crashed beneath her boots as she sprinted blindly into the thick of the forest. Her breath came in short, sharp pants, lungs screaming for respite. But here was no time to stop. Not now, not yet. Not until it was safe.

_(Please, don’t – don’t – please – you can’t do this, just take what we have and go)_

The frail hand gripped tightly in her own slackened, and Violet glanced back sharply.

“Esme? You with me?”

Leaves and twigs were tangled in the older lady’s springy mop of tight, grey curls, framing a thin face that was turning more pale by the second as she struggled to keep up. Keeping fit was an underrated benefit of the apocalypse, but Esme was 66 years old. Just because she could stand her own against Growlers, she couldn’t run this hard or fast anymore. Until now, they'd done well to accomodate that. 

“Barely.”

_(No! No, please, please, don’t hurt him!)_

There was no way to keep moving without risking Esme’s health. So, Violet made the snap decision, albeit the more dangerous one. She snarled a curse that would have made Esme clap her round the ear under different circumstances and skidded to a stop.

“Okay, okay, deep breaths. This is not how this ends. This is not how _we_ end,” Violet eased Esme against the thick trunk of a tree. “Hunker down, okay? There we go… nice and easy. Keep breathing, okay? In and out.”

Esme nodded, dazed. Bony fingers flew to the hollow of her throat, and her head leaned back against the rough bark. When she was satisfied that a bit of colour was returning to Esme’s cheeks, Violet straightened herself carefully, and pulled her sleek black dagger out from the sheath strapped to her thigh.

“Be careful, Vi,” Esme said weakly.

“Always, mama bear,” Violet flashed her the most reassuring smile she could muster. Then she threw her guard up and stepped away from the tree to face the way they’d came. Two Growlers shambled towards them.

_(You can come with us if you want… but there’s a price)_

The hurt and the pain and the shock of the last hour exploded from Violet in a sudden fit of feral rage. She bared her teeth and stormed towards the nearest Growler. She buried her dagger right to the hilt into its temple. The blade sank too easily through the decaying skull, and she threw it to the ground, disgusted that it didn’t put up more of a fight.

She charged the second one with so much force that it toppled backwards. Its bloody fingers caught in her leather jacket, and she fell on top of its painfully thin body. Four distinct bones in its chest crunched beneath her, but the Growler continued snapping its teeth dangerously close to Violet’s throat. Even after all this time, the reminder that they felt absolutely nothing but a wild, insatiable hunger chilled her to her very core.

One hand curled around its cold neck, holding it down to push herself back up, and slam her dagger straight between its dead, milky eyes. This one too, died too easily, and it wasn’t enough to curb Violet’s white-hot fury. She stabbed the dagger into its head again, and again, and again. Hot tears of frustration and loss streaked cleanly through the cold, foul-smelling blood spattering her face.

_(Ain’t nothing gotta come of this)_

_(We’re just trying to help you)_

_(Love ya, girl)_

Violet wiped her blade clean on the old tatters of the Growlers shirt and rose back to her feet, breathing heavily. The blind mist of fury was ebbing away, leaving a fuzzy buzz in her ears and a tremor in her hands. A sob rose in her throat. She took a moment to breathe deeply and swallow it down. There would be time to mourn later. But only if they came out the other side of this seemingly never-ending forest alive.

“Are you alright, Esme? Can you keep moving?”

“Yes, I think so. Have we lost them?”

“No way to be sure without hanging around to find out,” Violet wiped her palm on her jeans before offering a hand to help Esme up. “Can you run?”

“Oh, I don’t… I don’t know, chick. My heart…”

“How about a light jog, huh?”

“Can we just… walk for a bit?” Esme looked up at her with sweet, apologetic brown eyes. Weariness cut deep into the lines on her round face like she’d aged another ten years in a single afternoon.

“Sure.”

They walked slower than Violet would have preferred. Restless, she would either drift ahead to scout the way, or drop back to dispose of any undead tag-alongs that emerged on their tail. Esme found herself a reasonably sized stick with a thick base that helped her walk faster but could crack a skull with if necessary.

_(I’m sorry – we’re sorry – we really don’t want any trouble, please)_

Somewhere nearby, a twig snapped. The women froze, eyes darting all around to find the source of what had stepped on it. Violet desperately wished to see the soft face of a deer, just as startled as they were. She wished that it was a particularly slow Growler. Apprehension prickled in her gut when neither of them so much as twitched among the trees. Another twig snapped and, still unable to pinpoint the direction, anxiety raced through her. She grasped Esme’s free hand and looked down at her with a simple plea on her face. Esme took one last look around then nodded.

_(You can hold your own… I like that)_

They took off in a run once more. Waiting for trouble to find them wasn’t worth the risk this time. Already weak, physically, and emotionally, they’d essentially be signing their death warrant.

“Esme! Look!”

Light was filtering through the trees up ahead. There was no telling what exactly awaited them at the other side, but she prayed desperately for at least one building, somewhere with sturdy walls they could hole up in to figure out what their next move would be. Esme was dangerously short of breath again, and their pace faltered, but she didn’t stop.

“Almost – there.”

“Yes, yes, we are, and we’re going to –”

Suddenly, they were falling, falling... and hit the ground with two heavy thumps. Violet gasped for the breath that had been knocked from her, inhaling a spray of loose dirt. A wailing scream pierced the air before Esme clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the next. Instinct kicked in and Violet struggled to her knees.

“Hey, hey, shh! Shh! You’re okay – you’re okay –”

“My ankle! My ankle! Oh, Lord, please, help me,” Esme sobbed openly into her hand. It was like hearing a wounded animal, or a parent’s heartbreak. The sound twisted coldly in Violet’s chest, and for a moment, she was absolutely as helpless as she felt.

A grating, guttural snarl caught her attention. From the bushes ahead staggered a single growler. This one was missing an arm, so the threat was low, but it was the kick of adrenaline she needed to narrow her focus. She swiped up Esme’s stick from where it had landed, planted it firmly on her chest, then sprung up and shoved her dagger up through the Growler’s jaw in one clean, practiced motion.

“There’s going to be more.”

“I’m sorry, Violet. Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Tears sparkled on Esme’s dirt-smeared cheeks.

 _“Don’t,”_ Violet snapped. Then, in a softer tone: “Don’t apologise to me. It’s fine. You’re going to be fine. Everything is going to be just fine.”

_(We’ll catch up with you – GO!)_

Violet bent down and looped an arm round Esme’s slim waist. As gently as possible, she pulled her up. Esme leaned heavily on her stick; one arm thrown over Violet’s shoulders. The small sobs and whimpers bubbling past her lips brought the lump back to Violet’s throat, but there was no clearing it this time. It stung with each swallow, burning with the threat of more tears.

“I think it’s broken, Vi. My ankle – I – I can’t – You have to – ”

“I’m not leaving you, Esme. _I won’t._ ”

Another Growler burst from the trees, close enough that they could smell the rot and decay wafting from its spindly frame. Giving a pained, yet determined cry, Esme lashed out without hesitation. The butt of her stick cracked it right across the face, spraying blood, and it fell with a dull thud by her side.

Together, they hobbled forward, step by step. Three more Growlers crept out to greet them, and one by one, they put them down for good. Sweat dewed their aching bodies and their heads pounded from stress, and dehydration, but they were making ground, slowly but surely. The trees were thinning. Walls awaited them at the other side, grey and tall and dull and oh, so inviting.

“Look! Just a little further, okay? Just a little further. We’ll clear out one of those buildings and see to your leg, and everything will be _just fine,_ ” Violet gritted her teeth, not sure who she was trying to convince anymore.

“What do you know about breaks, huh, chick?” Esme’s voice was feeble and distant. Her grip around Violet’s neck remained strong, but the rest of her was fading. Violet fought against a surge of panic. She barely cleared 5’2 with boots on; too small to sling another full-grown woman over her shoulders, march her to safety, _and_ take care of anymore Growlers on the way.

“I know enough, but hey – hey! Esme! You could teach me, right? You’re smart, you know things,” Violet started to babble, letting every word that came to mind trip straight off her tongue. Anything to keep Esme conscious. “I wish I’d read more books Before. I mean, I’ve got all the time in the world to start now, huh? Maybe we’ll find a library. That would be cool, wouldn’t it? We’ve never been to a library. Once we find the others, we can take a vote. Fuck Derek’s Norfolk plan, am I right?”

“A library… would be lovely…”

“Esme?”

There was no warning. One moment she was upright, and the next, she wasn’t. Her grip on Violet’s jacket collar went loose, and her stick clattered to the ground.

“No, no, no! Esme, no! Come on, wake up! Please!” Violet sank with the sudden weight and locked her knees a second before they buckled.

_(Isn’t this what you wanted?)_

Tears pricked the back of Violet’s eyes and she hoisted Esme up to get a better grip on her. “We’re not dying here. Not like this.”

She heard the all-too familiar growl far too late. There was only so far she could turn while holding up Esme’s limp body, but she still had her dagger clutched in a vice grip. Her right fist flew to its throat, but it did little to stop the advance. The blade sank through its decomposing flesh. Blood, cold and sticky, spilled out onto her fingers, coating her hand, running down her wrist and into her sleeve. Disgust curled her lip, and fear had her growling back as it’s stinking jaws gnashed closer and closer to her face.

Her own growl rose to a roar, generating the fresh rush of energy she needed to push the monster off to the side. The knife slashed deep across its neck, and its head lolled down at a grotesque angle to its painfully narrow chest. And still it moved – still snarling and clawing for their flesh. With a dry sob, Violet delivered the killing blow.

The momentum of the swing toppled all three of them, and another sob burst from Violet. This time, she couldn’t stop.

“C’mon, Esme, wake up, _please!”_ Unlocking a strength she didn’t know she had in her, she was able to haul Esme up and get an arm over her shoulders like before. She almost fell twice in the process, but it would be over her dead body that the old woman be left for the infected in a woods miles away from anywhere she’d ever called home. No, they _had_ to keep going.

_One step. Two steps. Breathe. One step. Two steps. Breathe._

Everything was burning, the hard beat of her heart shot fire through every muscle, every cell, but it kept her focused; she entered a strange, single-minded trance. When they broke through the treeline, the sudden shift in light stunned her out of it, and like water draining through a plug, her strength failed, and her knees finally gave out.

“No, no, no…” Kneeling in the middle of the wide, empty road, littered with dry, brown leaves that had blown over from the woods, Violet pulled Esme into her lap. She pressed bloody, shaking fingers to her neck. Her pulse was faint, but it was there.

A fresh round of sobs overcame Violet and she wept openly over Esme’s chest. “I don’t know what to do – I don’t – I can’t –”

Then, from somewhere to her right, she heard the distinct sound of hooves clopping against concrete. For one wild, disorientating moment, she was thrown back to the days of Before, when she would hear that sound every weekend. She could see her sister’s ranch so clearly in her mind’s eye; the gleam of their ponies’ coats as she walked them through the yard. She could see the bright, shining faces of her family – her sister, her nieces, her nephews. Just as clearly, however, she could see those faces in the very early days of After - smeared with the blood of their pets, and their father, Violet's brother-in-law - distorted into inhuman shrieks, scraping their fingernails bloody against the barn doors.

One of her nephews had survived, huddled against the back corner of the barn with only three horses. It was atop them that they managed to escape with Derek and his wife, who, back then, had been nothing more than a poor couple stranded in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Hey! _Hey!_ I’m talking to you, lady!”

Violet snapped back to the present, whipping her head towards the loud voice. About thirty feet away, two people were mounted on horses, much larger than the ones used for her sister’s business. One of the riders had a wooden bow raised in her direction, arrow nocked and ready to fly. The other’s bright blonde hair was scraped tight to her skull, but the ponytail down her back was thick and bushy. Her skin was pale, and though she looked younger than the archer she was with, she appeared to be the mouthpiece.

“Has your friend been bitten?”

“No,” It sounded more like a croak than a word.

“Have _you_ been bitten?”

“No.”

These women looked clean and healthy, like they had regular access to food and water. But it was their attire that had confused, and intrigued, Violet the most. They wore armour; thick black padding that protected the most imporant parts of their chest, with strips that covered their forearms, and thick pads for their shoulders, elbows, and knees. It didn’t look bulletproof, and there were multiple weak spots, but it seemed like enough for dealing with the dead, or perhaps a close-range fight with the living. 

Violet’s eyes frantically searched for anything that might’ve pinned them to the group that had ambushed hers on the road, but the concern in this girl’s voice was far too real. Not that it mattered either way. Right now, there was no other option.

Violet looked down at the woman in her arms, then back up at the strangers. More tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

“We’re not infected… but I think she’s going to die.”

* * *

A clock ticked softly on the wall behind Violet. It had been so long since she’d heard one, it set off a strange sense of anxiety that prevented her from looking. For months, the only thing that had measured their time was the rise and fall of the sun. To put an exact stamp on that again didn’t feel right just yet.

Violet ran her thumb over Esme’s fingers, lingering on the gold band of her wedding ring. The woman spoke little of her family from Before. All Violet knew was that they hadn’t lived very long into the After. They didn’t even know her husband’s name, or her children’s, or her grandchildren’s. Charlie had pried, he always pried, but there had been no cracking her. It was her own stubborn way of processing the grief, but Violet wondered if things would be different now that Charlie was on that list of people this new world had taken from her. Would she refuse to speak _his_ name?

The sound of laughing children, friendly conversation, and bleating livestock floated through the open window, caught on a cool breeze that wafted in the sweet scent of fruit and flowers. Esme would panic when she woke up to that; in a bright, clean room, tucked into a comfortable bed beneath fresh blankets. The first thought on her mind might very well be that she _had_ died and gone on to some beautiful, Growler-free afterlife. It had certainly occurred to Violet more than once that they hadn’t actually made it out of the woods.

A quiet knock on the door made Violet jump. Force of habit had her hand flying to her dagger, but the sheath was empty. Bitterness swept through her at the reminder, but it passed just as quickly. If a bloody, agitated mess of a woman had come into her home, she wouldn’t have let her continue with a weapon either.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and the girl with the bushy ponytail who had found them, and rushed them straight here, poked her head in. “Hey… How is she?”

“Stable. It’s just a waiting game now,” Violet offered a quick smile over her shoulder.

No more than two hours ago, the resident doctor – a real, _professional_ doctor – had whisked Esme through a set of double doors in the clinic that Violet hadn’t been allowed to follow through. The young lady had then introduced herself as Kayleigh. The quiet archer with the stern gaze was Dianne, and she had guarded the main entrance in case Violet had taken a turn and decided to bolt. There hadn’t been a catch, and it hadn’t been a ruse. They didn’t want anything at all other than their co-operation. And Violet had worked with them - to an extent. She refused to leave the building until she knew Esme had been stabilised, and moved somewhere more comfortable until she either opened her eyes... or she didn't.1

“I’m glad to hear that,” Kayleigh walked further into the room but kept her distance. For a moment, they were silent, still getting used to the others presence.

“You guys must’ve really gone through it," Kayleigh spoke first. 

“We have, but we never stopped fighting,” Violet sighed and rubbed Esme’s hand again. “Our friend tells her all the time that she’s far too spiteful for this kind of world. It sounds like she lived on her own terms Before, so she’s going to die on her own terms After. Won’t give anything else the satisfaction of killing her.”

Kayleigh chuckled softly. “Sounds like something my grandma would’ve said too. Are you–?”

“Not family. At least, not by blood. But… I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah, I get that,” They lapsed into another moment of quietness. Violet didn’t mind, not while her thoughts were in such desperate need of untangling. The clock continued to tick and she found herself counting the seconds. 217 passed before Kayleigh sighed deeply.

“I can see that you don’t want to leave, but… You really need to come with me now. We gave you a bit of lee-way because of the circumstances, but we _do_ have rules. Then we can get you cleaned up before coming back because honestly? _You_ might scare her more than anything when she wakes up. No offence, but you look like hell. ”

“I fucking feel like it too,” Violet grumbled.

The last thing she wanted to do was leave, now more than ever, but she was aware of how lenient these people had been to let her stay in the clinic at all while they were helping Esme. It was a wonder she hadn’t already been dragged kicking and screaming to meet their leader. For this opportunity, this rare show of trust in a stranger, she was grateful.

“Chances are high she’ll be out for a while. I _am_ sorry, but this can’t wait any longer,” Kayleigh continued, face scrunched like asserting the rules was causing her discomfort. It was her unease that softened something within Violet and she sighed, lowering her forehead to Esme’s knuckles. She liked this young lady, who had saved their lives by taking them immediately to a place with walls, medicine, and an actual doctor. She had vouched for her to stay and see Esme alright first. Violet was going to let her do her job.

“I’ll be back soon, I promise,” Violet kissed the older woman’s hand and laid it back down onto the bed. Esme didn’t so much as twitch in response.

Despite every assurance from the doctor, Dana, leaving her alone in such a vulnerable state, surrounded by strangers, was a difficult feat. The door clicked softly behind Violet, and a horrible, aching sadness swelled in her chest.

“Hey… you know she’s going to be fine, right?” Kayleigh said. There was no way she could possibly know, no way any of them could know, but there was such certainty in her tone, Violet was inclined to believe her.

On their way here, her brain had registered little to nothing besides the bare bones of this community: walls, people, animals, safety. Fear and adrenaline had been powering her all day; the past few hours were a wild blur, including their initial arrival. Now that the worst had past, she could process and appreciate it fully.

This building alone was a world away from what she’d been living in all these months. The halls were painted the same calming colour of blue as the room Esme currently slept in, free of dust or cobwebs, and a selection of framed, painted seascapes decorated the walls.

“Was this always a clinic?” Violet asked, nose wrinkled at the smell of sharp, clean antiseptic that lingered in the hall.

“Yep. This whole place was a school district – we lucked out with _a lot_ of stuff,” Kayleigh said, grinning. Dimples popped on her freckled cheeks as she bounced forward and swung open the main door, sweeping an arm out dramatically. “Welcome – properly – to the Kingdom!”

Violet squinted against the brightness of the afternoon sun, but when her eyes adjusted, she paused. None of this looked _possible_. If she didn’t know any better, she would think that they’d stumbled across a movie set. From the placement of the trees and bushes, to the perfectly preserved white-trimmed red-brick buildings, to the sheer amount of people – all busy, all _happy_ \- it was like the end of the world wasn’t raging on outside their sheet-metal gates.

A group of four - two men and two women - jogged by in a military-style formation, clad in the same black armour as Kayleigh and Dianne. Startled, Violet jumped back, and exhaled slowly. 

“This is…”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise you're not dreaming. Follow me,” Kayleigh jerked her head, and Violet fell into step beside her.

As they walked, she stared, perhaps a bit rudely, at people they passed. They stared right back, split between curiosity and pity, but never malice. The heavy ball of lead that had been in Violet’s stomach since the ambush softened further. The space they were working with was incredible. Herbs and flowers bloomed in containers ranging from old car tires to filing cabinets. Beautiful, open-wall gazebos were being used as outdoor teaching areas, looking out over a make-shift archery range, and livestock pens that secured goats and pigs. An entire zone of picnic benches had been set up around water-barrels and hanging lines for laundry. There was a near constant buzz in the air - an echo of the civilisation they’d once been.

In a dead world, the Kingdom was _alive_.

“It’s… This is _so_ surreal.”

“Oh, it’s about to get a _whole_ lot worse,” Kayleigh nudged her elbow, lightly steering her onto a path that cut through an impressive row of large vegetable patches. Towering behind them was another grand building with the words ‘POST THEATER’ printed along the thick rim of a wide, curving balcony that was supported by four sets of two thin pillars.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Violet bristled.

“There’s a couple of things I never got the chance to mention…” Kayleigh’s grin widened. Though her words were cryptic, her shoulders were relaxed. It was no threat, but Violet wasn’t sure how she felt about any more surprises today either way.

“Such as?”

“Eh… I really don’t want to ruin this for you. Come in and see for yourself.”

“What? No, Kayleigh – hey! Wait!”

Violet rushed through the doors behind the young blonde into a small, clean foyer, carpeted with the same red material that was often used in cinemas. Painted on the left wall, in big, 'Old English' style lettering, was, at first glance, a bible scripture. Noticing it had been signed off with just the simple initials ‘K.E,’ she looked again. The words grabbed her, and she stilled, rooted to the spot as a warm, long-forgotten feeling flickered to life in her chest.

_Hope is the North Star. Let it Guide You._


	2. Welcome to the Masquerade

-  
 _Out of the fire, rise from the ashes,_  
 _Reject your doubt and release the passion.  
_ _-_

The auditorium was bigger than it looked from the outside. Rows and rows of navy-blue seats faced a long, wide stage. What sat there, beneath a line of bright lights, astounded her, and her knees nearly buckled on the spot.

Stunned, she looked at Kayleigh, then back to the stage, where four sets of eyes watched carefully for her reaction. On the right stood a stony faced man clad in their signature black armour, hand resting on a pistol at his hip. To the left stood a cheerful looking giant in a red steward’s outfit - the battle-axe strapped to his back looked out of place on his person. Between them, a third man slouched casually in a short-backed wooden chair. He sported a thick head of long, grey dreadlocks, and held a heavy-duty chain loosely in his left hand. At the other end of that chain, right by his side, lay a giant, striped cat.

“Surprise!" Kayleigh whispered excitedly. "Neat, right?"

“Is that a tiger?” Violet’s breath escaped in a low gust, and her feet started to move, drawing her absently down the aisle. With each blink, she expected it all to disappear; her mind _must_ have been playing tricks, but as she grew closer and the beast rose to its feet, there was no mistaking it. “That is a fucking _tiger._ ”

A strange sensation overcame her then. Another clash of emotions so violent, her heart skipped a painful beat. Just hours ago, her head had been plunged forcefully into darkness and it was getting ripped back out just as fast. Loss and pain clung to her amidst a beauty she’d thought to have been long gone. It was a vicious conflict that was all together too much.

After that jarring moment of detachment, like her soul had lifted straight out of her body, Violet started to laugh. Hysterical little giggles bubbling into full-blown belly laughs, doubling her over. 

“Steady, Shiva. Our guest is overwhelmed,” The man with the dreadlocks spoke in a deep, regal voice ringing with the sense of authority you’d expect to hear from royalty. It did little to ease her sudden bout of hysteria.

“What – the fuck – is this?” she wheezed between gales of laughter.

“Violet… meet King Ezekiel,” From somewhere close behind her, Kayleigh made the introductions. “Your Majesty… this is Violet Coleman.”

“Sorry – sorry –” she straightened, stomach aching. The tears she wiped from her cheeks smeared the foul blood dried into her skin.

“Do not apologise for working through a trauma, Lady Violet. A treacherous journey appears to have befallen you. Certain things take time, now more than ever, if we are to remain human in this monstrous world,” King Ezekiel regarded her with such kindness, it was almost painful. “Would you care for some fruit? Water?”

“If you can spare it… yes, please.”

“Jerry –”

“Already on it, boss!” The man in the red steward’s outfit, Jerry, retrieved a bowl of fresh fruit and a bottle of water from a table off the side of the stage. Thirst had been pushed to the back of Violet’s mind until it was mentioned, and it was suddenly all she could do not to lunge forward and snatch the plastic bottle from Jerry’s hands.

“My favourites are the pears. They’re _super_ juicy. It's all really good though!” He crouched at the edge of the stage and held them out for her. A smile lit up his broad face, bright and genuine. Violet offered him a small one in return as took the bottle, and plucked up the first piece of fruit she laid her hands on – a shiny green apple.

“Thanks.”

“No worries, dude!”

“ _Jerry_ ,” The King said, exasperated. That singular word gave a strong glimpse behind this metaphorical crown, and again, Violet smiled. Even though Jerry _looked_ the part, he sure didn’t sound like it, and _now_ … now it was clear that this was simply an overly-elaborate aesthetic – a brand to uphold. It helped in subsiding the preliminary shock, but the sensation that she was floating through an inexplicable fever dream remained.

“Your traveling companion lies in our infirmary as we speak,” King Ezekiel turned his attention back to her. “Is she well?”

“Her name is Esme. And according to your doctor, she’s going to be fine,” Violet twisted the cap of the water bottle. When it snapped, the dark whisper in the back of her mind that they’d laced it fell silent. Tempting as it was to drain the bottle in a few large gulps, she took small sips instead so not to upset her empty stomach. “She wouldn’t have been if your people hadn’t found us.”

“Dwell not on what could have been. You required our aid, and you received it,” King Ezekiel tipped his bearded chin in the tiniest of nods. He caught and held her gaze like he was searching for something just below the surface. “You stand now, blood-soaked, before the King. Pray tell, finally, what happened to you, Violet Coleman.” 

Just before her teeth sank into the apple, she froze. In all the commotion and the worry, wading through this bizarre, impossible place, and meeting all these strange, new people, she’d almost forgotten what had driven them here in the first place.

It rushed back to her vividly, rolling like a camera reel in her mind’s eye. The blanket of clouds that had blocked out the sun, and how even the birds had fallen silent in anticipation; the way the battered old pistols shook in the grubby hands of their assailants, and how quickly blood had pooled beneath Charlie’s head.

A hard knot pushed up into her throat. She swallowed hard, once, twice. Her fingers trembled as a pressure built in her chest – pain, horror, shock, blind panic – and in a desperate bid to hold it together in front of these people, she channelled it all into a blistering anger instead.

“We were heading for the city and got ambushed on the road... _bastards._ There was only five of them, but it all happened so _fast_. They said they would help us get in and out, that they would _protect_ us… for a price. We didn’t even have a lot to begin with! That’s why we were heading into the fucking city!” A hot lash of fury roared up from the pit of her stomach. She took a steadying breath, ground her teeth to bring herself back, and continued, “They shot two of our people, but by this point, we’d attracted… _far_ too many Growlers. It was… _chaos,_ just… complete and utter _chaos_. Derek told us to go, so we did, but... we couldn't stick together. I lost track of everyone but Esme. I _had_ to get her out of there. We just ran, and ran... We _had_ to. It was stupid, but we did, and we were almost _literally_ out of the woods and it all fell apart _again_ –”

“Take a breath, my friend. This tale has intrigued the King greatly,” Ezekiel sat forward now, both feet planted firmly on the ground. “Do you remember where exactly this transpired?”

“It wasn't far off the west highway.”

“Richard?” the King looked to the armoured man, who someone looked even _more_ grim after hearing this news. “Have there been any sightings of these bandits within our realms borders?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Richard pinned Violet with an accusatory glare. “Not yet.”

That tiny comment and the snide implication behind it peaked her rage. Feeling like she could breathe fire, she took an unthinking step forward, hands clenched into fists. Before she could even open her mouth to ask him what he could have _possibly_ meant, the tiger bared her teeth and let loose a snarl loud enough to bounce off the walls. Every single person in the room flinched, save for King Ezekiel. He ran a hand down the tiger's back in a soothing gesture and firmly patted her side. _Fearless._

“She does not like the turn of this conversation. And neither do I.” He sat taller in his chair – his _throne?_ – and looked down at Violet with an unreadable expression on his face. “Perhaps it would be wise to take the night, and return to this in the morrow with fresh eyes. For now, the King encourages you to make use of our facilities. Bathe, sleep… grieve. New garments shall be arranged for you, and please feel free to join us for supper. Rest assured, Lady Violet, that you are safe within the Kingdom. No harm will come to you here, least of all from our own hands."

Still spinning from the rush of fury that had burned through her, and not entirely trusting herself to say something calm and constructive, all she could do was stare, breathing heavily. And the longer she did, the more of this self-proclaimed King she took in.

The thick beige coat, the cut-off gloves, and the combat boots; the bright, star-patterned shirt, the ornamentation in his hair and the long wooden cane that lay across his lap. Behind the veil of flamboyant theatrics, he exuded a very real kind of power. The stage's pastel-painted backdrop of a fairytale Kingdom looked nothing like his own, but with a tiger on a chain in one hand, and an axe-wielding titan at his shoulder, he seemed more than capable of ruling both. It was beautiful, and ridiculous, and intimidating – lines that blurred further the longer she looked.

“C’mon,” Kayleigh laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder, “I’ll show you where to clean up.”

“Sure, yeah, sorry,” Violet shook her head, dazed. “Uh, thank you… Your Majesty? Thank you.”

King Ezekiel merely nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes burned into her back the whole way up the aisle.

* * *

Though she was itching to get back to Esme, she was in more dire need of scrubbing the blood of the dead from her skin. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting in regards to the Kingdom’s method of bathing, but in a small building attached to one side of the school was an actual working _shower block_ with _running water._ That level of luxury hadn't even crossed her mind.

Upon swinging through the door marked 'Women,' she felt a tug of nostalgia for a simpler time. It reminded her strongly of her high school years, over twenty years gone.

A polished wooden bench stretched the length of one wall, opposite a line of grey lockers, most of which were missing doors so they could be used for storing clean towels and boxes of amenities - soap, shampoo, toothpaste. Violet almost burst into tears there and then, but that part didn’t come until she was standing in the first shower she’d had in over half a year.

The water wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t cold either. It was just _so;_ a borderline religious experience all the same. Violet allowed herself a long, blissful moment to just stand and enjoy the sensation of water spraying against her head, streaming down her body - something she hadn't even realised she'd taken for granted Before. At her feet, blood and dirt drained away in an ugly, red-black swirl. 

When every single inch of dark olive skin had been scrubbed clean with a small bar of odorless soap, and the grimy tangles of her hair had been ran through with a tiny bottle of watery shampoo, a devastating wave of sorrow crashed through her. Alone, finally, with no one to be brave for, Violet let it sweep her up, and break her heart.

She remembered the click of Charlie cocking his beloved shotgun, and how he hadn’t been able to cast aside his stubborn southern pride for just five minutes to save his own life. She remembered the spittle flying from Sebastian’s mouth as he lunged for the man who had cracked his weeping twin sister across the face, and the deafening ring of the gunshot that tore right through his shoulder. She remembered the clatter of the pistol as the man who’d pulled the trigger realised what he’d done, and how Derek had speared him into the side of an abandoned car all the same. She remembered the exact shade of grey Heidi’s terrified face, and the exact pitch of Lisa's screams - it would surely add to the melody of her nightmares for years to come.

Violet cried it all out. Heavy, gut-wrenching sobs that made her head pound. Pain seemed to radiate from a bleeding hole in her heart, forcing her in on herself as if that would keep her entire body from falling apart at the seams.

When the water sputtered out, and she was left naked and shivering on the cold tile floor, she clambered stiffly to her feet. The softness of the towel was heavenly, and she snuggled into it while her long black hair dripped on the floor. An all too familiar numbness settled over her, and to protect her own sanity, she sank into it willingly. She needed to turn it all off for a while if she was to come out the other side of this intact.

Someone had left fresh clothes folded in a neat pile on the bench above her boots. Violet dried herself slowly, working through post-breakdown hiccups. When she slipped into the new clothes and she breathed in the light scent of lavender that clung to the soft fabric, a sigh fell from her lips. It was all still too surreal. Where was the catch here?

Violet used the damp towel to wipe down the grime and grit from her tattered, calf-length boots. Only then, when she was standing in something familiar, that was entirely her own, did she allow herself to look in the wall-mirror by the door.

The light cotton vest and black leggings hung from her small, skinny frame. She buttoned up the over-sized flannel to cover the worst of it and rolled the sleeves to her elbows. Blunt fingernails teased her wet hair back into a braid and secured it with an elastic band. Hard, brown eyes stared back at her the entire time from a tired face. There were more lines around her mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there when the entire world ground to a horrific halt either. But observing this woman and all this new world had taken from her stirred a strange pride within Violet. Here stood a survivor; someone who had defied the end of the world and _lived_.

Violet shoved her dirty clothes into a basket and laid her daggers empty sheath on top. Balancing it on her hip, she pushed the door open and jumped like a skittish cat to see Kayleigh leaning against the wall outside.

“Sorry,” her smile was easy and open. “You’re stuck with me for a while.”

“A personal guard?” Violet raised an eyebrow.

“Something like that. The King doesn’t specifically order us to, but… you said it yourself - you were out there for a long time. It's safer this way. And not to mention coming into something like _this?_ It'll be easier if you have someone around to help you settle in. So, here I am!”

“You’re talking like we’re staying.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I… don’t know. It would be… it would be nice. But I need to find my friends first,” Violet frowned, and readjusted her grip on the basket. “Isn’t that the _King’s_ decision anyway?”

“Do you have anywhere else to go?” Kayleigh asked.

“No.”

“Is there anywhere else you _want_ to go?”

“Not anymore.”

“Then you can stay. That _is_ his decision with everyone who shows up here. As long as they pull their weight to keep the place running, of course,” A smile pulled at Kayleigh’s lips. “Full disclosure? All that ‘King’ shit aside, he’s a good guy, Violet. It doesn’t seem like there’s much of them left these days, but there’s a reason he’s in charge. It’s not because he killed anybody to get there.”

Upon leaving the shower block, Kayleigh offered to help her with cleaning her clothes to show her the way around their laundry system, but Violet kept a firm hold of the basket. She was in a delicate state right now. The last thing she wanted to do was upset the balance by overloading on difficult, and unnecessary, conversations.

“I’ll do it later. I need to get back.”

Kayleigh nodded and wordlessly escorted her back to the infirmary at a much quicker pace than which they’d left. When they turned onto a corner that Violet recognised, she jogged the rest of the way.

Esme was still sleeping when she entered the room. Quietly, she laid the basket of dirty clothes in the corner and sat back down into the same chair as before. A lot had changed in the time she'd been away. Not only her physical appearance, but mentally, she was in a different place. In all sense of the word, she felt _lighter,_ more prepared to deal with whatever came next.

“How is she?” Kayleigh looked into the room, leaning heavily on the door handle.

“Just the same,” Violet said, stifling a deep sigh.

“That’s not _bad_ news at least,” Kayleigh hovered, deciding her next move, then stepped into the room and closed the door. “Do you mind if I hang around?”

Violet shrugged, too lost in her own thoughts to care. The younger girl slid down the wall left of the door and stretched her legs out.

“You should know that King Ezekiesl’s sending out a team to look for the rest of your group right now. Oh, and this is for you, by the way," she dug into her pocket and came out with a green apple. She threw it in a high arch towards Violet, who was so shocked by the news, she almost let it fly over her head.

“He’s _what?_ ”

“I told you – he’s a good guy. If the rest of your group came this way, we’ll find them.”

“What if it’s…”

“If it’s those assholes that shook you down, they’re not even going to get close enough to see the walls," Kayleigh’s smile was small and brittle. “We’ve got your back, like it or not.”

“Thanks.”

A long silence enveloped the room, broken only by the clock, and the noise drifting in through the open window. Birds, chatter, laughter. _Life._

Eventually, it dawned on Violet that Kayleigh had been awfully quiet for someone who always had a whole lot to say. She glanced back over her shoulder to see the girl’s eyes were closed, arms crossed loosely on her chest.

“Sleeping on the job?” she said, only half expecting a response.

“No, I’m just chilling,” Kayleigh said, eyes still shut. “Should I not be?”

“You tell me,” Violet snorted, then turned back to face Esme at just the right time. Her bony fingers were starting to twitch against the white sheets; lashes fluttering as she blearily opened her eyes. It took but a single heartbeat for Violet to shoot from her seat to the side of the bed, gathering Esme’s hand in both of her own.

“Hey… Welcome back, mama bear. Can you hear me?”

“I hear you _,”_ Esme smiled at her weakly before reality caught up and started to sink in. Suddenly, all traces of grogginess vanished. Her eyes snapped wide open and she bolted up, reaching wildly for a weapon that wasn’t there. “What? Violet? Where – _what–_?"

“Whoa! Hey, it’s alright, you’re okay, _we’re_ okay…” Violet eased her back against the pillows, squeezing her hand.

Esme remained tensed as her gaze flicked over the walls, the ceiling, the bed, the tiny desk in the corner, the chair, and finally, the stranger behind Violet, “What’s going on? Where are we? Are we – did they… did they–?”

“No, they didn’t, don’t worry. _We made it,”_ Unexpected wetness glazed Violet’s eyes. “This is Kayleigh. She’s one of the people who helped me get you here.”

Kayleigh had scrambled to her feet and was standing behind Violet with a welcoming smile on her face. She raised a hand in a swift little wave that did naught to charm the old woman.

“Where is _here?_ ” Esme’s fingers twisted into the sheet at her side in visible distress.

“They call it the Kingdom. You have to see it to believe it, but trust me… it’s safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” the swiftness of the answer surprised even herself. But, she supposed, if anything was going to happen to them, it would’ve happened by now. There wasn’t anything _off_ or _wrong_ about the vibes. Violet had been in dangerous situations with dangerous people - this was not one of those situations. Sure, the people were a little weird, but they were by no means a threat to them.

“Where's–?” Esme cut herself off, and a breath caught in her throat right before she burst into tears. “Oh. Oh, _God._ ”

Violet smoothed her hair back like Esme had done a hundred times before for not just her, but the twins, Derek, Heidi… They had been a family, through and through, bonded by loss and the innate will to survive at all costs. And now, just like that, it had been ripped out from beneath them once more.

Eventually, Esme’s sobs subsided into soft sniffles, and she murmured: “Blessed are those who mourn. Thank you, Vi.”

Respectfully, Kayleigh had given them space. She’d even closed the door as soon as Esme had started to cry. A new ache touched Violet’s chest at the gesture. The cold, bitter grip of this new world hadn’t crushed the good out of these people yet. That was becoming clearer with every interaction.

It reminded her of the King’s words in the auditorium, about retaining humanity in a monstrous world, and the old, painful hole in her heart gave a sharp pang.

“I met the guy who runs this place. _King_ Ezekiel, he calls himself,” she said thickly, talking around the sudden lump in her throat. “He’s kind. Odd, but kind. He has a tiger on a leash, Esme. A living, breathing _tiger_. On a _leash._ ”

“ _What?”_ Esme searched her face for any hint of humour.

“I’m not even joking. She’s beautiful.”

Esme stared up at the ceiling, processing this news on top of everything else. It was the same wild ride Violet herself had been on, compressed into one, hard hit.

“Well then… If the cat trusts him, so must we,” Esme broke her silence with a small exhale. “They’re excellent judges of character, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to nail how to write these characters, especially Ezekiel's dialogue. And Jerry is... well, Jerry lmao. Some things are a little different from the show right now, but this is still early days for the Kingdom!! They've got a lot of growing to do!! Likes and comments are appreciated - it will 100% help me get a move on to write/release new chapters. Thanks for reading! :D x


	3. Follow My Voice

_-  
_ _Scars can be so hard to hide when all around is flawless,  
_ _But where we’ve been makes us who we are.  
_ _-_

In the late afternoon, the Kingdom’s resident doctor, Dana, stopped by per Esme’s request for more painkillers. Dana had a brisk, professional attitude about her, but it was another dose of normalcy that Violet hadn’t even realised she’d missed. Cleaner and calmer than she had been earlier on in the day, Violet introduced herself properly and thanked Dana for everything from her patience to the care she’d shown Esme. True to character, she’d merely nodded and told her not to worry – it was all in a day’s work.

It didn’t take long for exhaustion to creep up on both of them. Though Violet would have been content to sleep in the chair or on the floor, Esme insisted she squeezed in next to her on the bed. Given the limited wiggle room, she hadn’t expected to sleep long or well, but when she next opened her eyes, it was close to entire pitch darkness in the room, and save for the steady ticking of the clock, there was silence.

Besides a slight stiffness in her neck and back, and a deep, growling hole in her stomach, she felt surprisingly refreshed. Getting up slowly, she padded over to the window and peeked around the side of the blinds. The sky was dark, and the streets were empty. It was the perfect time to do her own thing in peace.

Her boots got thrown into the basket of dirty clothes, which she hoisted carefully into her arms. On tiptoes, she crept from the room, pausing briefly at the door to check that she’d been sneaky enough. Esme was still in a deep, much-needed sleep.

The boots stayed in the basket until she left the clinic, and plonked down on the top step to yank them on. There she sat, just breathing in the crisp air, and watching it puff out of her again in small clouds. Protected by her new flannel, she didn’t even think about moving until the sky started to lighten from a deep, velvet blue to a gritty shade of grey. It was so nice to just _be_ in this little bubble, not having to look over her shoulder or strain her ears for the slightest hint of danger.

Dawn tinted the Kingdom like a grainy filter, transforming it back into what could have been an old movie set. Combined with the lack of activity after such a lively show yesterday, it should have been eerie, haunting. But Violet passed a bed of fresh crops, and a gazebo with children’s paintings on easels, and one of the many live-stock pens, and it awoke something warmer than fear inside her chest. Even without the buzz of happy, healthy people in the air, touched only by a low grey light, the Kingdom was so _alive._

Feeling like she had the whole place to herself allowed her to fully appreciate the good fortune of being there. Even when she hesitated and panicked when filling up the tub in which to scrub her clothes clean, just the very fact that she was able to _do_ such a thing was another scene from the fairy-tale they’d stumbled into.

When she was done hanging up her wet clothes in a small corner of the back line, she patted damp hands against her hips and sat up onto one of the picnic benches. The sky grew ever lighter, and she was sure it wouldn’t be long before people started to rise and make a start on the daily chores that made this place what it was.

From the corner of her eye, a flash of orange and black sent her heart up into her throat. Shiva, unchained, was padding leisurely down the street. She seemed entirely uninterested in Violet, but she held her breath all the same. A _tiger._ Right _there,_ not twenty feet away, without so much as a glass screen for protection. Before she could begin to fear that the beast had somehow gotten loose and was ready to wreak havoc on the locals, King Ezekiel strolled into view, Shiva’s chain dangling loosely around his neck. For a moment, it looked like he might not have seen Violet tucked away in the corner of the laundry zone, but then he raised a hand in greeting.

“Good morrow, my friend!”

“Good morning... Your Majesty?” The title rolled easier from her tongue today, but it would take some getting used to. She eyed him as he drew closer, still not entirely sure what to make of the thematic. Having worked in a museum for the better part of fifteen years, she’d seen her fair share of paintings that depicted medieval royalty, knights, castles, the whole shebang. Ezekiel’s take on it all was… different, to say the least.

“I almost didn’t recognise you, free of all that gore. What brings you here at such an hour?” He stopped at a reasonable distance away, resting both hands on that flashy-looking cane in front of him. The giant cat didn’t even look twice in their direction.

“Uh… laundry,” Violet gestured towards the washing line, “This sure beats how it gets done out _there._ What, uh, what brings _you_ here so early?”

“Shiva’s morning walk,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it were as normal as taking a dog out. “There is a serene stillness to the dawn, is there not?”

“There is,” she nodded in agreement. Her hands were clasped loosely between her knees, and she forced them to stay that way – loose and relaxed. “It sort of gives you a weird sense of clarity.”

“Indeed, it does.”

King Ezekiel’s smile touched his eyes, which she could now see were warm and dark and framed by a set of impressively thick lashes. Right there in that serene stillness, struck by that weird sense of clarity, she realised he was _handsome_.

“I trust you settled in without much ado. We missed you at supper.” 

“Yeah, we fell asleep before we could think about food.” Violet glanced down at her boots, wondering how to articulate her next thought, “Hey… sorry about all that yesterday, by the way. It was… _rough_ , and you guys really knocked me for a loop.”

“Many have had far more adverse reactions to the King,” _And Shiva,_ said the proud look he shot behind him at his tiger. She was currently sniffing her way along the street, scenting its grassy borders, calm and unhurried. “Though there are few to arrive under such circumstances. Your apology is unnecessary, but acknowledged all the same.”

“Thanks. We would have arrived under _far_ better circumstances if we’d taken a different way into the city. There would have been a lot more of us too,” she exhaled slowly through a dark pulse of grief. “Kayleigh told me you were sending out people to look for them. Thank you for that.”

King Ezekiel bowed his head slightly to acknowledge her gratitude. “I did, and I was going to inform you of this later. The King’s knights were unsuccessful in finding the rest of your group, but I implore you to keep faith. They will widen the search today.”

“Really? When? I’m going with them,” she straightened, nails digging into her palms as she readied for a fight that never came. The King had no quarrels about letting her go; no agitated excuses to keep her in.

_Not trapped._

“They leave at nine. It may be for the best if you _do_ join them. Your friends will be pleased to see a familiar face among the cavalry. Can you ride?”

“I can.”

“Excellent,” he cast his kind eyes up to the sky. It had grown a shade or two lighter during their conversation but stayed solidly within a dreary spectrum of grey. There would be rain today, which was bad news when trying to track anything. Yet, he breathed in deeply and smiled. “Loss is unrelenting in the land of the dead, but as we have found… So is hope. It is one of the most important things we can carry within our hearts, right through these dark times and beyond.” 

Violet wondered if Ezekiel had been a writer or a performer Before. If his words, and the dedication to this role suggested anything, it was that this man had a gentle heart, that of an artist. In the quiet light of dawn, it was absolutely enchanting.

“Well, in that case… I think everyone else is really gonna like it here.”

King Ezekiel’s smile widened into a grin then, and it was so dazzling, it took her breath away while she found herself grinning back, automatically. It felt strange on her face, but _good._

“It will be a pleasure to make their acquaintance. I would like to hear more about them, and _you,_ for that matter, but alas, we must be getting on if we are to finish our walk in peace,” They both looked to Shiva, now straying towards a small bed of vegetables growing in an old car tire. “You are welcome to breakfast, and do feel free to deliver a tray to Lady Esme. Make yourselves at home, indulge in what we have to offer, and don’t forget – nine o’clock in the courtyard.”

“Thank you… Your Majesty,” Violet hesitated, then bowed her head a touch. He flashed another bright smile that she unthinkingly mirrored. When he turned his back and clicked his fingers to get Shiva’s attention, the grin stayed on her face. Inspirited, she called after him: “You know, you’re much easier to talk to out here!”

He was quick on the mark, voice lilting smoothly. “Good! It pleases the King to hear the throne serves its purpose.”

* * *

The Kingdom awoke slowly. The earliest to get going were the ones who tended to the animals. Others gathered for a rise-and-shine yoga session off the main courtyard. A couple of people on laundry duty arrived with steaming mugs of coffee – the smell of it wrapped around Violet’s heart. Some of them offered her a smile or a wave, but nobody approached her. Not yet. They were giving her the space she needed to settle in – meeting her fragility with respect. Each of them understood exactly what she was going through.

There was, however, one person who had no qualms about bouncing towards her. Kayleigh was loud in the lazy atmosphere, shaking the last wisps of sleep from everyone she beamed a bright “Good morning!” too.

“Hey! How’s it going? How’d you sleep? How did _Esme_ sleep?”

“Hey,” Violet laughed shortly at the girl’s energy. “We slept well, thanks. I woke up early enough to wash my clothes in peace, but they don’t smell half as nice as this.” She plucked at the flannel she had been gifted yesterday.

“You can thank Prue for that. She infuses the water with lavender. Got a whole bed of the stuff for this alone, but if you take some without asking her, she won’t be half impressed. Best just to wait for her to fill the basins.”

“Noted,” she said, mystified. The Kingdom truly was a gift that kept on giving. 

“Do you want to get breakfast? You must be starving. Ezekiel sent me over with a couple of trays for you last night but you were already passed out by the time I got there.”

“He did?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Kayleigh said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, your clothes will be fine here, but all the good food’s gonna be gone if we don’t get a move on!”

The cafeteria was another moderately sized building attached to the main school. The exterior was the same dark red-brick scheme, but the interior was painted light, off-set colours. Along the right wall, in the same Old English font as in the theater, were the words ‘ _Nourish Each Other.’_ It was more spacious than it looked from the outside; not swarmed enough to feel packed, but there were enough people at each table to make Violet jittery.

The feeling that every eye was on her as she stared in disbelief at the selection of food kept her grounded, but nervous. She placed two pieces of fruit, bread, and even bowls of porridge on a tray, and thanked Kayleigh profusely.

“You are an angel, really, but I’m going to take this back…”

“I know,” Kayleigh said. “Tell Esme I said hi, and I’m sorry if I freaked her out yesterday.”

“She knows you meant well, don’t worry, but I’ll tell her anyway. Catch you later?”

“Count on it!”

When Violet turned to make a prompt exit, her eyes were drawn to the middle of the room. With his unique mass of hair, King Ezekiel was hard to miss. A part of her half-expected to see Shiva lying behind him. He was surrounded by Jerry, Richard, and another man sitting between two blonde kids. A surprising swell of relief swept in and confused her.

The King acknowledged her presence with a warm smile and a nod of his head. There was no grand greeting, no attempt at conversation, nothing that would draw any more attention to her. At least he knew how to read a room… or maybe her nervousness was written all over her face.

She had just pushed the door to the clinic open with her shoulder when it dawned on her - the relief had come from not seeing a woman by Ezekiel’s side. The thought irritated her, and she cursed herself for entertaining it, even subconsciously.

Esme was awake when Violet returned, but she wasn’t alone.

“Ah, Violet, good morning,” Dana’s words were friendly but her tone was no-nonsense. She barely even glanced up from the clipboard in her hands. “How are you feeling today?”

“Marginally better than yesterday. Still feel like I’m dreaming though,” As a case in point, she laid down the breakfast tray on Esme’s bedside table.

“That’s common. Have there been any chest pains, nausea, or headaches?” Dana scratched a little note at the bottom of the page.

“Nope. I’m fine, really. How’s everything here?”

“As good as they can be. Her ankle will heal the way it’s supposed to, but I want to keep an eye on her vitals for a few days,” Dana paused and pursed her lips. “It’s also within my professional interest to advise her against leaving again, full stop. The world outside these walls isn’t getting any kinder, and Mrs Winters here isn’t getting any younger.”

Esme glared at Dana. “The good doctor doesn’t think I’m fit enough to be out there. I told her _–_ I told _her_ she can’t stop me when I’m fit to go, but nobody listens to an old woman!”

“Well, maybe the good doctor’s right,” Violet said. “Wouldn’t it be wise to stay somewhere you’re guaranteed medical care?”

“Don’t you start.”

“Don’t _you_ start! I’m going back out there today to look for the others, and when we get back, they’re going to tell you the same thing. We don’t _have_ to leave again, Esme. This is the place we were looking for.”

Dana’s hard features softened slightly, not expecting the back-up. “Everyone is very much encouraged to stay. And again, Mrs Winters, it _is_ for your own safety and well-being. Our senior residents have their own block of the school, right by the clinic, and they fill their days with whatever they see fit. As long as you’re not picking a fight with the dead _or_ the living. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

On her way out, she stopped at the door, and the all-business attitude dropped entirely. “I can promise you that you will not find a more comfortable living situation in this world. Not with our resources.”

“Thanks, doc.” Violet sighed. The door had barely clicked closed behind Dana when Esme burst into an angry tirade about human rights and ageism. Violet picked up a bowl of porridge and settled back into her seat, propping her feet up on the bed. She remained quiet, savoring every bite of the warm food.

“This isn’t _right,_ Vi! What is going _on_ with you? Why aren’t you angry about this?” Esme scowled and snatched up a plump green pear from the tray.

“We almost died, okay? _You_ almost _died._ You _would_ be dead if these people hadn’t helped us. They went out looking for everyone else yesterday. They’ve given us food, water, _medicine_. Fuck, Esme, what’s going on with _you_? What happened to ‘cats are great judges of character,’ huh?”

“Language!” Esme snapped.

"Well!"

Living this long, unwittingly viewing life through a grey lens tinted by death, loss, horror, and despair, it was more difficult than ever to see _green_ flags on the rare occasion they waved. Experiencing what this magical little pocket of the apocalypse had to offer, even just for a short while, was like wiping away the grime and seeing light again for the first time in a long, dark age. It urged Violet to wipe the entire lens clean to look upon a future that didn’t have to be so bleak.

She didn’t want to be scared anymore. She didn’t want to be hateful or mistrusting; to be cold, hungry, or dirty, or constantly on guard. She wanted to lick her wounds, and start again – a chance so many had never been blessed with.

There was still plenty left to say, but neither of them spoke a word of it. Though the tension was smothering, Violet ate her way through her half of the breakfast tray with increasing vigor. It was wonderous to eat a meal she hadn’t killed and skinned first, or picked from the earth or a bush.

Esme had only taken a few chunks from the pear before a loud, dry sob stuck in her throat, breaking the heavy silence. When she spoke, voice thick with tears, the real root of her sudden agitation became painfully clear.

“His body’s still out there, Vi. Charlie, he – he’s – oh, _God._ ”

The harrowing realisation churned Violet’s stomach. Heat prickled across her skin – the only warning she had before everything she’d eaten came straight back up. While she was hunched in the corner of the room, spitting a mouthful of vomit into the bin there, a tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

“Esme?”

“Yes, chick?” The sharp reminder of what they’d lost to get here had been enough to break the uncomfortable atmosphere between them, and her voice was once again soft and tired.

“Is it anywhere near nine o’clock yet?”

* * *

A spit of rain landed on Violet’s forehead as she hurried through the Kingdom. Worry niggled in her gut. The positive turn their luck seemed to be taking had to run out sooner or later, she supposed, but she had been hoped it would’ve held for at least another few hours.

In the middle of the courtyard, near the gates, a handful of people were milling around five horses. She spotted the King’s head; the green feather in his dreads standing out amongst the crowd. Shiva was still nowhere to be seen, but his ever-present steward, Jerry, was hard to miss. He was the first to notice her approach, and the smile he shot her over the top of everyone else’s head was as genuine and warm as the day before. It did wonders to soothe the anxieties that were beginning to rise, and helped to solidify what she was starting to see as a truth – these people _were_ good.

“Hey, right on time!”

“Yep,” Violet agreed with a tight smile. She still hadn’t looked at the clock, not personally. According to Esme, it had been ‘near enough,’ and that was all she’d needed. “Time _is_ of the essence, after all.”

“Lady Violet!” King Ezekiel side-stepped one of his men to reach her. “It seems as if the weather will be taking an unfortunate turn. You may need this.”

In his hands was a dark, moss-green jacket with a hood, and two military-style patches on the breast beneath an American flag. Simple and lightweight, and perfect for the ride.

“Um… thanks. I mean, thank you, Your _Majesty_ ,” Violet shrugged into the jacket and caught a faint whiff of lavender. The sleeves fell to her fingertips, making it feel that little bit cozier. The King appraised her with a look she couldn’t quite read, but which sent a surprising shiver up her spine all the same. _Oh, yes, he is **very**_ _handsome,_ the thought drifted, unbidden through her mind.

“Hey! There won’t be any tracks to follow soon,” A stern voice called. The blonde archer from yesterday, Dianne, was already in the saddle of her horse, the reins of another held loosely in her hand.

“You’re quite right!” Ezekiel said, boisterous as he led Violet towards the light bay mare that immediately snatched her heart.

Everyone else in the search party – she had just spotted Kayleigh among them – mounted their own horses without further prompting. When Dianne threw the reins over, and Violet gathered them into one hand, a fleeting sense of giddy excitement chased away any lingering concerns.

“Do you require assistance?” Ezekiel asked. He was standing at the head of the mare, absently stroking her velvety muzzle while Violet sized up the horse. It had been a long time since she’d vaulted onto anything; this was not to the time to try and fail, just to keep her pride intact.

“Yes, please,” she said, forcing her chin to stay up. “For the sake of convenience, of course.”

“Of course,” Ezekiel smiled knowingly and quickly laced his gloved fingers together to form a step. He boosted her up with ease, and her stomach fluttered as she settled into the saddle. She quickly adjusted the stirrups, and Ezekiel laid a hand on the mare’s thick neck. “Our knights know this area well. And Dianne is one of our strongest. You can trust them.” _You can trust **me**_.

Violet heard the unspoken words clearly. This was more than a simple search party. This was their way of convincing her that when the dust settled, a place among them wouldn’t be so bad.

“We’ll be back before nightfall, Your Majesty,” A white, middle-aged man oozed confidence atop a dappled grey gelding.

“Count on it,” Dianne agreed firmly. “Let’s go.”

There were no more warnings or cautions from the King. No what if’s or goodbyes. Just small, emphatic nods that spoke volumes. Nobody had a single doubt about making it through the day. They were _certain_ that they’d see each other again; they’d return home without incident, and all would be well. It was sheer, blind faith in the face of utmost uncertainty. The long-forgotten embers of Violet’s own faith sparked to life, deep in the cold corners of her heart at such a display, or rather, the lack of a need for one.

The gates were hauled open, and they filed out one by one. Violet chanced one more look back at King Ezekiel, who raised his hand in a wave. Behind him, Jerry threw up a peace sign, beaming widely.

An invisible something tugged gently at her gut then, and she was suddenly _positive_ that this _was_ the right place to be. As sure as she’d been to hole up in the gas station that Esme and Charlie barrelled into, or to turn left at the crossroads which led them straight to the Twins and their lodge, or to follow a suspicious trail of fresh blood at the end of which laid a barely conscious Heidi.

All the good that came from the end of the world had been acquired by following that imperceptible little nudge. What use would it be to stop listening now?


	4. Rain

_-  
_ _How many goodbyes can fit in a lifetime?  
_ _How many good lies can make it seem alright?  
_ _-_

Upon leaving the Kingdom, the group fanned out into a loose formation with Violet in the middle – a simple precaution that she barely noticed. The only thing ringing through her mind now was the time. 9am. Maybe 5 past? 10 past? The specific minutes didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was no longer just ‘the morning.’

About a mile from the edge of town, they passed an abandoned cottage, set back from the road behind an over-grown yard. The rusted white fence and the neat little post-box would have given it a quaint, somewhat homely feel once upon a time. In a world abandoned, it just looked lonely and haunted. The grass was dead and brittle, struggling to grow over a weed choked path; moss had almost obscured a handful of crumbling gravestones on the right side of the yard; a shadow shuffled past a grimy window. Violet’s heart ached unexpectedly at the forlorn sight.

It was 9am, and she was sad. It was 9am, but she was _hopeful_. It was 9am, and everything was different now.

“Hey, lady! Do you remember the road you got jumped on?” The confident white man who had assured the King they’d be back before nightfall twisted in his saddle to look at her.

“My name is Violet. And yes, I do,” she said icily.

“ _My_ name is Gus. And good. That’s where we’re starting today.”

A sudden rush of irritation brought Violet’s teeth together in a hard snap. It was that type of loftiness that had led to so many altercations with Sebastian and the rest of their group – specifically Derek. But at least Sebastian still had the excuse of teenage angst. Grown men absolutely did not.

“Don’t worry about him.” The rider on her left, a black man with a slim scar cutting down from his hairline, noticed the hard set of her jaw and offered her a reassuring smile. “He’s a certified jackass.”

“There’s always one, right?”

“Right,” he laughed. “We were out here yesterday. There was no one nearby, but it was getting too late to go too far. Our only problem today will be the weather, I reckon. Oh! I’m Theo, by the way. And that’s Chelsea,” The red-head riding near Gus threw up a peace-sign in a silent greeting. “You’ve already met Dianne and Kayleigh.”

At the mention of her name, Kayleigh trotted up from the rear to level with them, and slid straight into the conversation without missing a beat. “Yeah, and she scared the hell out of us! I thought we were gonna have to put them down.”

“I’m just really glad you asked questions first,” Violet said, gently shaking her head at the thought of what _could_ have happened.

“The King’s real strict about that,” Theo said. “Says the world’s cruel enough now without any of us making it worse.”

“Are there any exceptions?” Violet asked. It was a noble policy, but it was _because_ this world was so cruel that it seemed unrealistic to consistently enforce it. 

Theo and Kayleigh both opened their mouths to reply, but it was Dianne who said: “If _they_ shoot first, we don’t take chances.” 

“Good.”

Now that the silence had been lifted, a hundred different questions rose to Violet’s tongue. Instead of firing them off at what would have been an infuriating rate, she listened to what everyone else had to say first. They might unknowingly have some of the answers she was looking for.

Through their spontaneous bursts of chatter, she learned that Dianne was a dead-shot with a bow; most of their supply runs at the moment were in search of weapons and ammunition, and live animals and the necessities to keep them warm and fed; Dana was close to completing a prosthetic leg for someone who’d been bitten and survived via immediate amputation; they had _not_ encountered another settlement such as their own yet, and their own name for the infected was simply ‘Wasted.’

It became obvious when observed that, despite the size of their community, and the rotation of duties, these people were close. Complaints were of petty matters, and brushed easily to the side by light-hearted swipes of humour. They spoke as affectionately of Prue, head of laundry, as they did of the King. Everyone had their roles, but the playing field remained level.

“We should be getting close soon… If it’s the right place,” Chelsea had taken point next to Gus, which relaxed the entire formation. No sooner had she spoken did they encounter their first two Growlers. Violet tensed, but her dagger still hadn’t been returned, and she didn’t even have so much as a stick to defend herself with.

“Shall we?” Gus grinned wolfishly. Excitement shone in Chelsea’s blue eyes, and she pulled a metal pipe from the make-shift holster on her back. Four long nails had been driven through it in a cross shape, as dangerous as the smile she shot Violet over her shoulder.

“This is how _we_ handle the wasted.” 

They kicked their horses straight into a canter and split off – Gus took left, and Chelsea took right. The Growlers barely registered them before their weapons swung through the air. Gus used a machete to slice his target’s head in two effortlessly, while Chelsea’s death-stick sank deep between the eyes of the second Growler. Having accumulated a good speed, its head ripped free of its shoulders with disgusting ease. She swung it up and away as hard as she could without falling out of the saddle. 

Exhilarated and beaming ear to ear, the two slowed their horses again and stretched out to slap their palms together. Breathless, and caught up in the moment, their fingers twisted together and they stayed like that for a few seconds too long. Neither of them noticed the third Growler that had emerged from the treeline, just metres from the hind of Chelsea’s horse.

Violet sucked in a sharp breath when it’s skinny arms rose, reaching, clawing, but before she could cry out a warning, an arrow pierced its bald temple, and it thudded heavily to the ground.

“Don’t get cocky,” Dianne lowered her bow. Kicking her feet out of her stirrups, she swung a leg round and slid cleanly from her horse, leading it with her as she marched to collect the arrow.

Mouth still open in a small ‘o,’ Violet could only stare. It had all happened so fast, there hadn’t been a chance to panic. The threat had been there, and then it was gone. Just like that. Nobody had so much as broken a sweat. All at once she was envious, and thankful, and most of all – inspired.

“You good?” Theo asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. That was… impressive.”

“We’ve had a lot of practice,” Chelsea, unphased by the near-miss, was still grinning at Gus with clear adoration on her soft, heart-shaped face.

“Not enough, apparently,” Dianne muttered under her breath.

Gus and Chelsea continued to run ahead and take care of the Growlers shambling aimlessly along their route. Violet wondered how many of them were from the herd she’d fought through, but before her thoughts could drift into darker territory, Kayleigh piped up out of the blue: “Hey, Violet? I have a question.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How did – okay, I don’t want to sound rude, so please don’t take this the wrong way – how did you all… I mean, it must’ve been… _ugh,_ I’m _trying_ to ask you how old Esme is.”

Violet lips quirked into a fond smile. Pride edged her words when she said, “She’s sixty-six, and a hell of a lot stronger than she looks.”

“What did she do before? How did you guys meet?”

“Kayleigh…” Theo said in a long-suffering tone.

“Sorry, but I have a lot of questions!” Kayleigh didn’t sound sorry at all. It almost made Violet laugh.

“Tell me about it, kid.”

“Tit for tat, then. On-the-road Q and A.”

Theo and Dianne listened as intently as Kayleigh did. These were no doubt the same kind of questions that she would have needed to answer at an official introductory meeting anyway. Everything she said today would be relayed back to the King and his guards – bright, cheerful Jerry, and cold, cynical Richard.

“That’s fair,” Violet said, nodding once. “Well… Esme doesn’t like to talk about Before, so I’m not _exactly_ sure what she did, but we collectively decided that it was a teacher of some sort. She never did tell us we were wrong. We met at an old gas station near Portsmouth.”

“Portsmouth, _Ohio?_ What made you come east?”

Violet huffed quietly, clearly remembering the week-long argument over where to go after venturing west proved far too dangerous. Seven stressful days in which they were starting to stray east anyway. Lisa won in the end, much to Derek’s indignation, and they fixed their sights on Baltimore. If that proved fruitless, Plan B had been to circle round the coast towards Norfolk – back to _his_ old house.

“There were people in our group who just wanted to go home,” she said, feeling a twang of sadness. Clearing her throat free of emotion, she flipped the script. “Is it my turn to get some answers now?”

“Alright,” Kayleigh grimaced, disgruntled that she had to wait to find out more. “What do _you_ want to know?”

Violet mulled over the questions she had stored and disregarded the ones about supplies, weapons, and even the full extent of the community. She didn’t want to instil unnecessary suspicion about her intentions. Even if they were as innocent as just wanting to know how the hell they’d managed to pull all of this off.

At _that_ thought, a face sprung to the forefront of her mind – one with warm eyes, and a dazzling grin as bright and uplifting as the sun itself.

“What’s the deal with Ezekiel?”

They seemed to have anticipated this. The three of them shared a look – the same fond pride that had been written all over Violet’s face when talking about Esme.

“He’s something else, right?” Theo gave a short chuckle.

“He has a pet _tiger!”_ Violet exclaimed. A lot of things about the Kingdom was too good to be true, but Shiva was by far the most unbelievable. “I didn’t think I’d ever see a _house cat_ again, let alone a living, breathing _tiger_.”

“Oh, trust me, we get it. It took me _months_ to get over it. Well, not _over_ it, but you know,” Kayleigh said, shrugging one shoulder. “They showed up here about three weeks after the world went to shit with a group of, like, ten? Cleared the school out, blocked off a safe zone, and we just… grew. He helped us lock down the whole district and build better walls… Ezekiel never asked to run the show, but he did a real good job of it. And I mean, who was going to argue with Shiva, right?”

Violet could imagine it well. If, at any point, someone had shown up to save her with a big cat on a chain and a tiny army at his back, she would’ve handed him the reigns too. Who else could tell you what to do, if not the man who had the ability to tame a tiger?

“Was he alway ‘the King?’” she asked.

“No.” The three of them laughed together at a shared memory. The memory of a time when King Ezekiel had simply been Ezekiel, and the Kingdom had simply been a school campus.

“It started as a joke,” Dianne said, lips still quirked into a small smile. “But it had such a ring to it, and he fitted the bill so well - it caught on fast and snowballed into what it is now.” 

So, they weren’t all sharing the same delusion. They were actors in the same show. With this information come to light, the absurdity of their aesthetic made sense. It was _necessary._ Just like there was hope that the world would recover from these dark times – nature always prevailed – there had to be hope that the people would too. And nothing gave people more to live for than art, in _any_ shape or form. 

“What about – wait…” Violet’s next question died on her tongue. Up ahead, Gus and Chelsea had come to a stop. Their horses were restless, which might have had something to do with the scattering of dead bodies laid out before them. She scanned the area, eyes blown wide, and a slow curl of ice knotted in her gut. “This is where it happened.”

A clump of bushes to the right drooped awkwardly, having been bent out of shape during Violet and Esme’s frantic escape into the trees beyond. It rushed back to her painfully – the terror that had pushed her to claw and slash her way off the road, and the blinding rage when the foliage snagged her clothes.

The putrid stench of rotting flesh touched her nostrils as they drew nearer to where Gus and Chelsea waited. She clutched the reigns tighter in trembling hands. Caught up on the high of her good luck, it had been easy to forget what was waiting for her here. She wasn’t ready for this – not in the slightest.

Chelsea watched Violet with a look of barely concealed pity; Gus’s mouth pressed into a thin line when she stopped and took in the full extent of the carnage. An eerie hush settled over the group.

“Oh… oh, my _God…_ ” Kayleigh was the first to break it. She all but dove from her horse and shot off to the side of the road. A spray of vomit splattered into the long grass.

The raiders, and her own group, she assumed, had put up a good fight before being forced to scatter. Among the thirteen corpses still in tact, a live Growler was bent low over the only remaining human body that she knew for sure had fallen in the attack. The slow, wet sound of tearing flesh drifted through the air. Its brittle, decomposing back shielded the worst of the scene, but there was no mistaking the shock of white hair visible at its side.

Getting restless that nobody seemed to be making a move, Dianne readied her bow, reaching for an arrow.

“ _Don’t_ , _"_ Violet nearly snarled. Stiffly, she slid from her horse’s saddle and stalked forward. The stale smell of blood and rot was absolute foul in the thick of it, so she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth and held it.

“Hey! _Hey!”_ Someone was shouting at her, but there was a dull ringing in her ears as she picked her way through patches of ragged, bloody clothing – none of these dead faces were of importance to her, thank the _Gods_. Bones crunched beneath her boots, and the glint of jewellery kept catching her eye. While scouring the mess, she spotted the shiny, wood-finish barrel of Charlie’s beloved shotgun poking out beneath a pair of legs that were skewed at an unnatural angle. In all the commotion, nobody had thought to pick it up.

Carefully, she pulled it free, and released the breath she’d been holding. On the next inhale, the Growler finally turned towards her. Blood smeared its jagged teeth and dripped down over a bony chin as it gurgling in a way that sounded almost lethargic, like it had eaten too much. But it was _still hungry_.

Channelling a furious pulse of revulsion, she threw her weight into slamming the heavy butt of the shotgun right down onto the crown of the Growlers skull. It slumped to the side, revealing what was left of its final meal.

“Gods…” The fight drained out of her as quickly as it had flared. Her body went slack, and she fell to her knees. The gun clattered onto the road beside her. “Oh, Gods, Charlie… I’m so sorry.”

Most of his face had already been blown out by the bullet fired point-blank between his eyes. The Growler had continued to chew away at his jaw; the side of his thick neck, and shoulder, and had been working its way down his torso. His chest, and his ribcage, had been torn open to reveal his vital organs, and the horrifically empty spaces where some had been ripped out.

Violet’s stomach rolled again, violently this time, and she barely had to scramble away to spit out the bile rising in her throat. On her hands and knees, she retched and heaved, but there was nothing left to come up.

“Hey…” Dianne spoke gently from somewhere behind her. “You might need these.”

Shivering, Violet wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and leaned back on her heels. In her hands, Dianne held a tin of lighter fluid and a small matchbox. Her tired blue eyes were haunted, and the two shared a quiet moment of understanding. This wasn’t her first cremation, and she wasn’t expecting it to be her last.

“Thank you,” Violet’s voice was hollow as she accepted the offering.

“Is there anything you want to take back?”

The question confused her for a second, and then it clicked. She glanced at Charlie’s body, having to swallow down another hot wave of nausea. There was only one other thing on his persons besides the shotgun that had any meaning to him, and it was his faded old baseball cap – plain black with the logo of his son’s football team printed on the front.

She took great care not to look at the one blue eye staring, lifeless, up into the trees, as she pinched the blood-stained visor between her thumb and fore-finger and lifted it from the sticky, crimson puddle by his head.

“I’ll take it,” Dianne held her hand out. “Do you mind if I keep hold of that too?”

Violet handed her the hat without thinking, but hesitated when it came to the gun. Chances were high that she would need to use it again while they were out here. It was only right that she be the one to do so – nobody else here knew its significance.

“I know you understand why I can’t let you keep it right now,” Dianne sighed, and after a moment of deliberation on her own part, she pulled Violet’s dagger from her belt. “I can give you this back instead. Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t,” She rose shakily to her feet. There would be an arrow in her head if she even _thought_ about abusing this extension of trust. Proving to Dianne that there really was nothing to worry about, she planted the gun safely into her grasp, atop the gore-encrusted cap. “Please, don’t lose them.”

“I won’t,” Dianne softened again, grateful that she wasn’t being difficult. “Is it loaded?”

“Should be. The raiders took the ammo for it though. They took everything before…” She didn’t have to finish that sentence.

Behind them, Kayleigh was still taking visibly deep breaths, still turned away from the mess of bodies. A sudden lash of irrational anger struck Violet. She wanted her to _look_ , to _see_ what this new world was capable of, what it could take from any of them in an instant. But it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t a _bad_ thing that she’d never had to deal with the fresh heights of human brutality. It meant she’d landed on her feet in the Kingdom; she had been safe, and protected, and that was a _good_ thing.

Violet’s throat constricted painfully and she whirled around to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes. It didn’t seem like these people would think any less of her, but that didn’t mean she wanted them to bear witness to such a level of vulnerability.

Upon sliding the knife into the side of her boot for safe keeping, it was like a part of her being had been returned. The weight pressing into her calf was an anchor against the tide of grief that rocked her when she doused what was left of Charlie’s body with the lighter fluid.

Even though she breathed in slowly through her teeth, the vile stench it created still burned her nose, and seared itself into her brain. Anyone who had survived so long had seen and done things no human being should’ve ever had to, but there always seemed to be further to fall. Somehow, there was always something _worse_ waiting right around the corner. There was a twisted comfort hidden in there, knowing that the pain she felt now was still less than what it could be – what it _would_ be.

Violet’s fingers shook as she plucked out a match, poised it against the striking surface, and closed her eyes.

“I… I don’t know what to say right now,” she spoke hesitantly, and quietly enough that only Dianne could make out her words. “From the moment you saved Derek’s life at that gas station, I thought you were going to beat this world. Saying goodbye to you like this never seemed like an option. But… here we are. You should know that you were right about coming into the city. We found a community… it’s beautiful, Charlie. And I can’t stop thinking – I can’t help but feel–” she choked on her words, struggling to get them out. “It’s almost like you made sure we got there, and I’m so sorry you never got the chance to see it for yourself. They’re going to help me take real good care of Esme for you. I promise… this won’t have been for nothing. Thank you for everything you ever did for us.”

She lit the match, but couldn’t bring herself to drop it until the flame drew dangerously close to her fingertips.

Charlie’s body caught fire fast. Violet stumbled back, yanking her shirt up to protect her nose and mouth from the awful reek it gave off. She stared into the flames, taking a moment to simply let go of both Charlie, and the small piece of her soul that burned with him.

The group of Kingdommers remained quiet the whole time. Their silent mark of respect for a man they’d never known almost broke her flimsy screen of composure.

“I can take you back to the Kingdom if you want to call it a day,” Dianne said eventually.

“No,” Violet shook her head sharply. “I haven’t even started looking for the others yet.”

Walking back to her horse, side by side with Dianne, she wondered if anyone who had survived this would see the plume of black smoke curling through the leaves and up into the sky. It could just as easily be seen by someone they _didn’t_ want to encounter too, and that was all the more reason to keep moving.

“Thank you,” Violet took the reins of her horse back from Theo. “And thank you _all_ for letting me do that.”

“Don’t mention it,” Theo said, offering up a smile. “Here, let me help.”

He leaned down and grabbed a fistful of her jacket, and the shirt beneath, right between her shoulder blades. Violet gripped the front and back of the saddle tightly, took a breath, and jumped on the count of three. Using that momentum, Theo was able to hoist her high enough that she could slide onto the saddle on her stomach.

When she spun herself up into a seated position and found the stirrups, Gus threw his head back and barked a laugh.

“Jesus _Christ_ , are we gonna have to find you a lil’ stepping block?”

“I’m out of practice,” Violet scowled.

“Sure you are, pipsqueak,” He rolled his grey eyes, still chuckling to himself, “C’mon, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

They circled round the mess, eyes focused dead ahead. Nightmares were plentiful enough without having to see what quick work the fire was making of Charlie's body. They should have maybe done something about the rest of the dead too, but that was a different problem for another time. It might even deter people from going any further down that road - a metaphorical 'TURN BACK NOW' sign.

Despite the lift in the atmosphere when the worst was behind them, chatter was still cut to a bare minimum. Everyone was on high alert, weapons out and ready to use at a second’s notice. When they hit the highway, they debated for a good five minutes on whether to split up.

“I don’t suppose you had a rendezvous?” Chelsea asked Violet. “Would they have made their way back to the highway?”

“I’m not sure…” Violet frowned, staring down the long stretch of tarmac. Beyond the block of abandoned cars, Washington’s skyline stood, obscured in mist, as bleak and grey as the rain clouds rolling in fast towards them. They tended to avoid highways if they could, and now the group was smaller, the chances were slim that they would take any risks. “They might’ve gone parallel to it in the woods. It depends on what happened to them after I left.”

Gus was already trotting towards the treeline before she finished talking. “That’s as good a lead as any. Keep up, y’all.”

They combed the woods methodically, spreading themselves out in a long line – left to right – to sweep bigger areas at a time. Nobody ever moved further than a short stone’s throw away, and nobody had much luck in finding anything useful. Broken branches and scuffs in the dirt were unreliable. They needed to find a boot-print or blood, clear evidence that it had been humans making the trail.

After keeping the highway at their shoulder for a few miles, they looped round into the thick of the woods. Kayleigh slashed an ‘X’ into one of the trees before the highway disappeared from view; a marker for tomorrow’s party if today’s search proved fruitless.

It warmed Violet’s heart that giving up didn’t seem to be on the cards just yet. There was no obligation to her and hers – as just a band of strangers that had been chewed up and spat out on their doorstep. Rescuing two out of seven was more than generous enough for this new world, but the King’s knights were adamant in their pursuit of the rest. They weren’t apathetic enough to leave five more wandering wounded in the woods if it was within their power to rescue them too. 

Just when Violet’s backside was starting to go numb, there was a sharp whistle somewhere to her left, piercing through their collective silence.

Gus was waving at them through the foliage, beckoning them over. Using the tip of his machete, he pointed to a smear of blood across the pale bark of a birch tree.

“That’s too bright for the Wasted...” Theo trailed off, dismounting to stride closer for a better look. His brown eyes darted across the dirt at his feet. “There! There’s more over there.”

“Alright,” Gus immediately swung from his own horse, landing heavily. “Everybody get down here. We’re following this on foot.”

The adrenaline from hearing that whistle hadn’t quite left Violet’s system as she once again slid out of the saddle. Her legs wobbled, but she staggered forward eagerly. Despite the odds, hope was blooming within her. Sebastian had been wounded – if any one of them were to be leaving a bloody trail, it would be him. It _was_ possible that someone else had been injured fighting off the Growlers, or that they were tracking one of the bandits instead. It was a win either way – whoever was at the end of this trail would have useful information.

They hadn’t gone much further when they encountered another small batch of the wasted, and Gus hissed out a curse. “Chelsea…”

“I'm with you.”

They rushed forward and quickly took down the first two, but Violet’s awe at their efficiency vanished in a sudden wave of horror when the fourth Growler turned and snarled at them.

“ _No!”_ She shot forward, but it was already too late. The nails in Chelsea’s bat were already buried in the back of its head. “No…”

The short brown hair was matted, but still thick. The skin was pale and grey, not rotting. The clothes were worn, not tattered. The huge chunk of flesh missing from the bicep was still seeping blood.

Violet swallowed hard and crouched down to gently close the white, milky eyes that should’ve been a dark, but clear hazel. Utterly numb from shock, her voice sounded distant when she whispered a quiet apology to yet another one of her friends.

“I’m sorry, Lisa. I’m so fucking sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... _I_ am sorry that this is so slow right now! I like to lay out a solid base for my stories/characters and keep a steady sort of pace with them. Please bear with me! More Ezekiel content is coming in the next couple of chapters <3 and I'm hoping to introduce everyone's favourite ninja in chapter 7 or 8. Thank you for reading so far :D x


	5. Somewhere In Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses a lot on the absolute rollercoaster of emotions Violet's going through because it is essential lol. Also, I'm pretty sure the stables end up being situated somewhere near the theater? But again - we'll get there!  
> Ezekiel shows up near the end to be a sweetheart, and there will absolutely be a scene from his POV in the next chapter :) Thanks for the patience y'all! x

-  
 _Give me some time,  
I need a little room to breathe.  
-  
_

Once returning to the road, the scouting group galloped back to the Kingdom in silence. They’d tried picking up the trail again, but beyond where Lisa was wandering in her dead-state, there was nothing to follow. In a direct reflection of their mood, the sky had finally opened up to unleash the downpour of rain that washed away any final chance they might’ve had at finding plausible tracks of a living person.

Violet kept her mind carefully blank, focusing only on the cold droplets stinging her face and hands, and the rapid rhythm of her horse beneath her. It had been so long since she’d experienced this unique sensation of flying. Even in such dreary weather, it worked to soften the lead ball in her chest that plagued every breath.

That there was even a place to come back to was soothing, but beyond that, there was still too much else to think about, too much to say and do – Violet's nerves were beyond frayed. Until she’d worked through the events of the day, and all the ugly emotions that came with them, she just wanted to be alone.

Back behind the Kingdom walls, their small party dismounted fast. Nobody was waiting for them to arrive, but the watchers on the gate, and the people working near the courtyard looked over. A few of them raised their hands in greeting, flashing them wide smiles of relief before going back about their business. It was as surreal as it had been yesterday, and Violet wondered how long it would take her to stop feeling a jolt of surprise to see so many people existing peacefully within the same space again.

“We’re going to update King Ezekiel,” Gus handed off the reigns of his horse to Chelsea, while Kayleigh gathered the reigns of Theo’s. “Sorry again, pipsqueak.”

“It’s fine,” Violet said through numb lips. “There’s still tomorrow.” _And every day thereafter…_

She wouldn’t stop until she’d exhausted every acre of woodland from here to Washington, and maybe not even then. She owed it to them to keep looking. How could she settle down and start a new life anywhere without knowing they were okay? That she'd given her absolute best effort to bringing them back with her?

“If they’re out there… we will find them,” Dianne said firmly. It sounded like a promise, but there was too much weight in only one word: _if_.

“Where do you keep the horses?” Violet asked suddenly, desperate for a topic change.

“We’ve got some make-shift stables in the west courtyard. It’s not much at the minute, but it's one of our top priorities.”

“I’d love to see them, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. This way."

Despite still being a work-in-progress, the west courtyard was beautiful, using flawless innovation to home their horses. The building had a wrap-around walkway, the railings of which were being used to hang buckets of food and water through. Thin wooden partitions had been set up to separate the space into eight different stalls, and a wooden roof jutted out from the railing’s support beams. It was literally just a tiny stable stapled to the sides of the walkway – Violet ached at the familiarity.

At the far end, where the walkway looped round, another shelter had been hastily erected for ease of access to the tack and grooming equipment. Slim pieces of metal had been attached in two’s on the railing, acting as saddle racks. Boxes of brushes and combs and hoof-picks sat in a neat row beneath them.

Another ache, deep in Violet’s heart. And another nudge in her gut, stronger than before. For a light, peaceful moment, she could draw a breath without it catching on the heavy knot lodged behind her ribs. But when Dianne asked her if she wanted to go back to the clinic, or clean up Charlie’s belongings, the knot throbbed painfully, and she winced. Yes, she needed to see Esme, but before that she needed to scrub the gun and the hat clean of gore, but before _that_ … 

“I, uh, I want to brush down the horses first. Please.”

“Oh,” Dianne was taken aback. “We do have someone for that, you don’t have to –”

“I _want_ to,” Violet said. “It’s the least I can do.” There was no need to tell them that she was one wrong word away from unravelling. It was evident in the waver of her voice.

“Ah, it’s fine!” Kayleigh skipped over to take Dianne’s horse. “Anita could use the help with this lot, especially since Ollie’s spending more time with the gardeners these days. He has a _huge_ crush on Matthew, but either he’s really bad at flirting, or Matt’s just being a moron. Both viable options, mind you, so, who knows?”

The tension diffused instantly and, uninterested in the new turn of conversation, Dianne rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep a hold of these until you’re ready, Violet. I’ll let your friend know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Violet wished there was more she could to do convey how deeply she meant those two simple words. They’d risked their lives today – she knew just as well as they did that there was no real way to ever square that sort of debt, not without risking her life for them in return. For now, she would start with simply pulling her weight where she could.

Chelsea pointed out the grooming buckets while mounting the last saddle on the arm. It creaked and sagged beneath the weight, but otherwise held steady. Before she took her leave, she squeezed Violet’s shoulder in an unexpected gesture of comfort. That left only one member of their search party behind.

Violet bit back a heavy sigh, but Kayleigh wasn’t as in the mood for conversation as she’d first seemed. She asked only one question: “Do you want to talk about any of that?”

“No,” Violet remembered that what they’d seen had made the girl physically sick, and felt a hard pang of sympathy. “Do _you?_ ”

“No. Not today.” Kayleigh said. And that was the end of it.

Violet slid into the stall of the horse she’d ridden. There was just enough room for her to approach from the side instead of walking directly into kicking range. She ran a hand over the mare’s hind as she passed, letting her know where she was.

“Hey, beautiful...” Violet murmured quietly as she ran a hand down her thick neck. Her fingers came away coated in a thin layer of grime. “I bet this is a far stretch from what you were used to Before, huh? But you’re just as brave as everyone else here, aren’t you?”

The mare’s ears flickered, registering Violet’s voice. Her large head lifted and she blew a puff of hot air in Violet’s face, making her smile. She patted her neck once more and got to work.

As the brush swept down over the mare’s flank in smooth, rhythmic motions, she settled into herself for the first time in a long time. It was soothing and familiar, bringing her back to a far simpler time; a happier time of warm sunshine and early morning treks, lake days and barbeques, of love and laughter, of _family._

The warmth of the past kept her mind distracted from the cold reality of her present. It was easy to imagine that she would step out of the stall and into the sprawling yard of her sister’s ranch. That the worst conversation of the day would be a disagreement with her nieces and nephew about her drinking one too many glasses of wine at the dinner table.

She spent longer than was necessary with the light bay mare she’d already grown attached to, combing out every knot in her jet-black mane and tail, and picking the build-up of dirt from her hooves. There was only two more horses to groom by the time she was done.

Kayleigh glanced at her as she hopped out of a stall and closed the flimsy hatch (it was hardly sturdy enough to call a door) that would stop the horses from wandering. “I can finish up here if you want to go see Esme.”

“It’s fine,” Violet said, studiously ignoring the sour taste of guilt in her mouth. Esme had been alone all day, worried sick, no doubt, and she couldn’t yet bring herself to face her. It was mean and selfish, but she was only human. Crying out the worst of the pain yesterday had cleared the initial grey haze of heartbreak. In no way did that nullify the trauma of what she’d witnessed today.

Kayleigh waited until she was finished with her second horse before trying again. “You know we’re going to keep looking, right? You might not have the best news to report today, but tomorrow might be different.”

“Maybe,” Violet forced a tight smile. Hope was a driving force in the Kingdom – it would be highly disrespectful to sneer at their optimism. After all, they had good reason to see the brighter side of things. The world had died a bloody, screaming death and here they were, thriving despite it all. Some of them, like Kayleigh, had been safe enough for long enough that they had forgotten what life was really like outside the comfort of these walls. They had forgotten what it was like to feel like their lungs were being crushed beneath the weight of their sorrow.

How easy it was to champion faith when it had never been pushed to its limit.

Kayleigh lingered, hooking her arms over the side of the stall to watch Violet groom the final horse. Enough time had passed for the shine of curiosity to return to her eyes, but thankfully, she withheld from asking the questions that were almost visibly bubbling on her lips.

When Violet was, unfortunately, all done, she returned the bucket to its spot, and turned around to see a new face approaching them across the wide courtyard.

“Kayleigh! When did you get back?” the woman’s face split into a grin. Laughter lines cut deep into her plump cheeks, her brown skin weathered from a life in the sun. Sleek mahogany hair spilled from a messy bun atop her head, the only thing giving her a height advantage on Violet.

“An hour ago? Give or take.”

“How are my babies? Any accidents?”

“Nope, they’re fine. Violet insisted on sticking around to help me groom them all,” Kayleigh patted Violet’s shoulder as if they’d all been friends for weeks. "Violet, this is Anita. Five of these fine horses belonged to her before everything fell to shit."

“It's nice to meet you today, Violet,” Anita’s demeanour was as open and friendly as she’d expected. Kindness was another recurring theme here. “Do you like horses? Or were you just being helpful?”

“Both,” They shared a swift, firm handshake.

“We’re going to get on just fine, Anita grinned again. “Are you experienced?”

“I am, actually,” Violet said, returning the grin with a small, bashful smile. “I worked part-time on a dude-ranch for about fifteen years.”

Anita’s dark eyes lit up. “Fantastic! I’m glad you found us. It will be good to have a kindred spirit around here. Good for the animals too.”

“Yeah, they’re smarter than they get credit for,” Violet agreed. She glanced fondly at the mare she'd ridden today and an emotion she couldn’t place swelled within her. When she took a deep breath to ease the pressure, it rose higher, choking her.

“I – ” her voice cracked, and she frowned, clearing her throat. “Sorry – I have to go. It really was nice to meet you, Anita.”

Violet nearly sprinted from the courtyard, suddenly frantic to be away from those friendly faces and their kind words. Her entire life had been shaken up and torn to pieces ten times over in the past year alone. There was no denying the fortune of the scattered pieces landing _here_ , of all places; a fateful convergance of her past and present to give her a future.

She could find a home here. She could be _happy_ here, and she yearned for it terribly – this she had just realised with crushing certainty. To wake up somewhere safe and do something she loved every day, surrounded by smiling faces and mundane conversations... It still seemed far too good to be true. But she finally knew the catch.

The catch was in the cold, empty spaces of her heart. It was in the echo of her family. It was in her failure to protect the people she loved. It was in the dark, merciless shadow of death that cloaked this new world. How could she even _think_ about settling into a happy new life when so many others would never get the chance? With so many souls to honour, with people still counting on her to find them, what did it say about her that all she could think about was finally letting go?

Wrestling with the sick reverie in her head left Violet blind to the world before her. It was reduced to a colourful blur, the noise just a droning hum, until someone grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop.

Disorientated, she whirled sharply to twist out of the grip, teeth bared in a snarl of panic. “Don’t _touch_ me!”

“Easy!” Dianne released her and stepped back, hand lowering to rest on the pistol at her waist. The other came up in a pacifistic gesture. “I did shout, but… you looked upset. And you’re going the wrong way if you’re going back to the clinic.”

“Sorry,” Violet exhaled shakily. “I don’t know where I was going.”

There was something in her face that made Dianne’s stance soften. She wore the same expression of pity as before, beyond the walls. Wordlessly, she swung her backpack round and pulled out Charlie’s baseball cap. It had already been cleaned and looked brand spanking new, now smelling faintly of lavender.

“It’s been a long day. Go and see your friend.”

* * *

Esme clutched the baseball cap in her hands, staring past the raindrops on the window. Her brown eyes were a hundred miles away, and her breathing had finally slowed. Though she was still very much awake, her heart slept.

She’d burst into tears the second Violet’s head appeared through the door, and hadn’t stopped for a good ten minutes. When Violet had thought it safe to place the baseball cap onto her lap, her sobs grew so violent that Dana had rushed in to check on them, a tiny knife glinting in her belt.

It was quiet in the room now. The sounds of the community outside provided a light, comfortable background noise, lulling them into meditative states. Back in Esme’s familiar presence, the lurch of emotions that had driven Violet from the comfort of the stables had settled. She didn’t have to tackle the onslaught of guilt alone, not when it seemed that Esme herself was starting to warm to the idea of staying in the Kingdom too.

“What’s it like out there, Vi?” Esme’s voice was a rasping whisper.

Rubbing the cuff of her shirt sleeve absently across the gleaming blade of her dagger, Violet pondered her answer. It was an intricate performance of the strangest calibre, a circus smack-bang in the middle of a wasteland; it felt like a mirage, something that was going to disappear in a puff of lavender-scented smoke every time she closed her eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she said simply. “Just… so beautiful.”

King Ezekiel’s brilliant grin flashed suddenly into her head again. Even remembering it in her mind’s eye was enough to tug at the corners of her lips. Nobody had warned her about _his_ beauty. She thought about their conversation at dawn, and then of how he’d been the first to offer her a boost up onto her horse. The power, clearly, hadn’t corrupted him. This King remained humble and empathetic – a shining example for the people who trusted him to lead the fight into a better world.

“This is the first day in too many months that I haven’t heard one of those... horrible growls,” Esme turned her head this time to catch Violet’s eye. She looked utterly drained, but resolute. “I want to keep it that way. I never want to hear that sound again.”

Violet forced herself to remain in a casual slouch, even though Esme now had her undivided attention. It was a full 180 spin from where she’d stood on that matter this morning, but she didn’t want to call that out. If this was the train of thought she was on now, the last thing she wanted to do was derail it.

Carefully, she arranged her features into a light smile. “Then you never will.”

It wasn’t a promise, not yet. But it had the potential to be. Esme could live out the rest of her days behind these walls easily. In the new world, it would probably be the closest thing she’d get to a retirement.

Neither of them spoke again until Violet’s stomach gurgled loudly. It startled them both into a short burst of laughter. Laughter that felt so good, they couldn’t stop. Unlike the hysteric gale of giggles that had hit Violet yesterday, this was light and authentic, born of delight and a deep relief.

Ezekiel’s voice echoed in her head, ringing loud above the sound of their joy: _Loss is unrelenting… So is hope._

“You need to eat,” Esme said eventually, eyes still bright with amusement. The baseball cap had come to rest on her chest, her thumb hooked through the plastic adjustment strap.

“It should be time for supper soon,” Momentarily free from the anxieties that tormented her, Violet turned to check the clock on the wall. “Oh…”

The hour and minute hands were lined up with the black five printed on the plain, white face. The second hand continued to tick softly in its rotation. Hypnotised, Violet stared.

She _felt_ it, returning to the constraints of time. Like she’d somehow come back to earth, her feet touching the ground again after an age of elevation. The transition was strange, but not as jarring as she’d imagined it would be. Transfixed, she watched the minute hand move slowly. When a full five had passed, she let out a slow breath.

It was half past five, and everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Supper was a strange affair. Before she was able to collect a tray and slip out, Kayleigh had steered her to a table she was sharing with Theo, Chelsea, and four others. They hadn’t remained strangers for long, but it hadn’t taken much for the stimulation to take its toll on Violet. Too many faces, too many voices; too _loud_ , too _fast_.

One of her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. The consistent press of her fingernails into her palm kept her grounded in the silent exercise, giving her enough mental space to remain polite when spoken to, but her answers were brief, her smile vague.

Suddenly, through a mouthful of chicken, Kayleigh loudly said, “Hey, Your Majesty!”

“Manners, Kayleigh,” King Ezekiel spoke from behind Violet. She, and the others on her side of the table, twisted to look at him. His presence didn’t instil fear or demand silence. A couple of them bowed their head out of respect, but they continued to chat amongst themselves, casual and light-hearted.

“Sorry!” Kayleigh’s mouth was still full.

The King shot her a look of both exasperation and amusement before shaking his head, and moving swiftly on. “Might I speak with you for a moment, Violet?”

“Of course,” Violet’s stomach flipped nervously. What would he want to talk to _her_ about specifically? What had the others told him about the events of the day? What could she tell him that they hadn’t?

He held the exit doors open for her, which was common-place decency, but made her stomach flip again all the same. This time, the sensation was far more pleasant, leaving a gentle flush of heat on her cheeks.

They walked slowly along the Kingdom’s main street. Twilight here ignited the same, dream-like magic as dawn. There was a fresh, after-rain smell in the air. Breathing it in steadied Violet’s nerves, and the tension fell away from her shoulders.

“The King has received accounts of the day’s venture beyond the walls from everyone save for you,” Ezekiel kept his regal tone light, like treading ice he knew was thin. “I would like to hear _your_ recollection of what transpired. It bodes well to hear all available sides to a story.”

Her mouth twisted into a quick grimace at her side of this particular tale. Having stewed on it with Esme, she’d reached a precarious state of acceptance for the most part. The gory details would no doubt shape her nightmares for the coming days, but she would survive. She always did.

“I’m not sure what to tell you if you’ve already heard it five times.”

“No two tales are ever the same. Tell me everything,” his warm smile was the final push of encouragement she needed.

As she spoke, she tried to mention things that would be new to him, such as her awe at how efficiently the Knights worked together as a team, and her appreciation of their kindness. To inject a bit of humour into the story, she told him, albeit a little bashfully, of how Theo had helped her back into the saddle. Ezekiel had laughed then, and much like when he grinned, Violet was infected by his joy, and she laughed with him.

The mood fell quickly when she reached the somber end of her story, but by then, they had reached the other side of the Kingdom.

“How big _is_ this place?” she said, staring at the back walls in wonder. They were erected from the same sheet-metal as the front, supported by vehicles, bricks, and old tires.

“Big enough for everything we need right now. As our numbers continue to grow, we will expand further,” Ezekiel said, chin tilted proudly.

“It’s quiet,” Violet noted aloud. There was none of the hustle and bustle of the main area. No animals, or make-shift plant pots. The only people here were the ones walking a worn-in path that seemed to follow the walls right round in a large loop. Apart from the odd Knight, these were just people out enjoying an evening stroll. It felt like a world away from the school, but the magic stayed the same.

“Yes…” Ezekiel trailed off, and straightened his shoulders again, though the pride on his face had shifted into something much sadder. “Would you humour the King a while longer, my lady? There is something I wish for you to see.”

“Uh, yeah? Sure,” she was thrown by the change in his tone.

They followed the path round to the left where a modest, red-brick chalet was tucked away in the corner, shaded by two trees looming over its back. A neat row of bright flowers bordered the building, releasing a sweet scent to the air.

“This was used by the groundskeepers,” Ezekiel explained, opening the faded white door, and stepping inside to flip the lights on. “Quite fittingly, I suppose, we now use it to remember the ones we’ve lost.”

Violet stepped inside, and immediately let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it.

One long, battered sofa sat in line with a low table that looked sleek and new in comparison. A circular table had been folded in half and pressed against the back wall; beneath the single-glazed window, looking out into the small garden. There would have been absolutely nothing to note about the space had it not been for the walls.

On the left wall, written in the same calligraphy as displayed in the theater and the cafeteria, were the words: _Love prevails through darkest nights._ Surrounding it was a dense scattering of photographs, fanning out in tight rings; a hundred smiling faces, frozen forever in various moments of joy.

“Wow…” Violet moved closer and found that she recognised a few of these faces already. Kayleigh, with her arms thrown round two other girls, their cheeks all squished together; Chelsea and a handsome man, both dressed to the nines in front of a flashy car; Richard and a little girl with his exact dimples grinning on a picnic blanket in a park. There had to have been at least a hundred different photographs here, _double_ the amount of people who occupied the Kingdom.

“Where did… where did they get all these?” Violet asked, unable to take her eyes away from the poignant feature. It was beautiful in the twisted kind of way that left a hollowness in your chest.

“Some of them lived close enough that it was safe to retrieve personal items such as these. Others arrived with them already on their persons. The polaroid’s, however, are recent. All of them were taken here, within the Kingdom.”

Violet scanned the wall again and noted at least twenty polaroid pictures dotted among them. She saw the King’s face in one – smiling wide, shoulder to shoulder with a group of six on the stage of the theater – and Shiva in the background of a bright selfie taken in front of one of the stone gazebos. She recognised the big yellow buses that helped build the walls, but none of the people posing proudly atop the roof of one.

Absently, her fingers reached out, but didn’t quite touch, a polaroid of a woman in the main courtyard, bare-back on a beautiful white horse that most definitely wasn’t in the stables anymore. “You guys have lost so much…”

“Is there a soul left who has not?” The King watched her intently, but stayed back behind the sofa, giving her space to absorb the moment. Nobody would have been able to survive so long without losing something, or some _one_ _;_ a vital part of who they were. There was simply no coming back from the trauma it seared into what remained of this life.

“Probably not. But if there is… I’d really like to meet them,” Violet’s lips twitched into a wistful smile.

“As would I,” Ezekiel said. He gauged her mood, and the relaxed set of her shoulders, then nodded his head towards the back door. “Care to see the rest?”

“Lead the way.”

The two trees took up most of the garden, shading the area with their thick canopy of leaves, branches dipped with the weight. Running between the trees was a short line of wooden crosses. They looked black against the faded white fence behind them, and far too small to be marking actual graves. All the same, a shiver rippled through Violet, and she pulled her shirt further around her body.

“What is _this_?”

“Some people do not have the luxury of photographs,” Ezekiel walked forward with her, but stopped a few feet away from the door, once again giving her space to adjust.

From there, Violet could see that the trees were scarred. Upon closer inspection, she could make out a list of initials carved into the bark. Enscribed next to them were numbers... dates.

Grief ached in her chest. One of her hands pressed flat against her sternum, as if that would keep the emotion from swelling.

Funerals, like most things, were a thing of the past. There was no grand send-off. Assuming there was even a body to bury, the graves were often shallow and marked only by small rocks, or a singular stick. Nothing permanent.

Violet hadn't had the chance to bury her sister, or her family. The lone survivor, her nephew Justin, had lasted only a few months before he was taken from her too. His grave was in a stranger’s over-grown garden on the outskirts of Ohio. Derek’s wife, Rosalind, had been buried with him. They were the last bodies Violet and Derek had ever had the chance to properly lay to rest.

The urge to carve their initials into the tree came on strong. She was one of the unlucky ones who didn’t even have a picture of her family. What if she were to forget their faces, or the sound of their voices? A spike of anxiety speared her chest, on which her next breath caught painfully.

Ezekiel cleared his throat gently so not to startle her. In his open palm, held at arms-length, was a plain, titanium switchblade.

“It matters not if you decide to move on; there will always be a place here for what you’ve lost.” 

Tears filled Violet’s eyes without warning, spilling hot down her cheeks. All she could do was nod when she picked up the switchblade. It was cool to the touch, and heavier than it looked, much like the weight behind the action.

There was no moving on from the Kingdom. This was exactly where she wanted to be – where she _needed_ to be if she were to ever heal from the horrors she’d seen. There was no stitching the empty holes in her heart when each day threatened to cut out a new one.

_No more._

Violet knelt before the left tree, and underneath a thick **G.S** , engraved the initials of her dead. Charlie, Lisa, Justin, Rosalind. Next to Holly, her sister's name, she etched a plus sign in favour of the rest of their family. If she were to commemorate more than the most recent, the most _haunting_ , then she wouldn’t know where to stop.


	6. Crossroads

-  
 _When you find yourself at the crossroads, just don't lose hope.  
-_

Deep shadows swept the length of the yard, and only when Violet rose stiffly to her feet did she finally feel their chill. Crossing her arms tightly over her chest to suppress a hard shiver, she turned to face the King, who had respectfully kept silent and distant the whole time. No doubt lost in his own memories of the people who were now no more than mere initials on a tree.

“I don’t think you know how much that meant to me. Thank you,” she smiled awkwardly, having to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

“You are most welcome,” Ezekiel said kindly. The thick beige coat folded over his forearm was immediately extended towards her. “The night grows cold, my lady. And please, forgive me, but you look like you need this.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, bashful. “I didn’t think I’d need the one you gave me this morning when I went for supper.”

Without making eye contact, she slung his coat over her shoulders. The hem of it brushed her knees, providing immediate relief from the chill. Lined with a pale fleece, it was one of the cosiest things she’d worn in months, and after only a split second of consideration, she pushed her arms into the sleeves. There was a good couple of inches between her fingertips and the cuffs, but it only served to maximise the comfort.

“Tis but a lesson learned, at the very least,” Amusement laced Ezekiel’s tone. The beginnings of a grin tugged at his lips, and that hint alone was enough to pull a smile from Violet in return.

They walked back through the Kingdom slowly, but the time still didn’t stretch for as long as Violet would have liked. Feeling lighter, and more settled, she was enjoying the King’s presence greatly; enjoying being wrapped in his coat, and just listening to him talk.

There was such passion in the way he spoke about the Kingdom, there was no doubting the love he held for his people. He really did believe in a future free of suffering – there were plans to expand, to find more survivors, to build a _community,_ not a hateful hierarchy akin to their dead society. Ezekiel recognised that they had a chance to create something better here. To move forward from that dead society, and leave all the worst parts of it in the past where they belonged.

By the time they reached the clinic, Violet had almost forgotten what awaited them all outside the walls. The bright, harmonious world within them might very well be nothing more than a fool's paradise, but with this man at the heart of it all, it was absolutely something worth believing in.

“Thank you again for tonight. It’s been… nice. In a strange way,” she gave a short, soft laugh. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Once again, you are most welcome,” Ezekiel said lightly. “It was not an unpleasant way to spend an evening, though I fear I may have monopolized our conversation.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had too many questions, and you had a lot of really good answers,” Violet shifted her weight, hands deep in the pockets of his coat. She wasn’t quite ready to give it up and say goodnight yet. “We’re going to stick around, you know? Even when Esme’s fighting fit again. I don’t think there was ever really another option… We’ll never find anywhere better than a Kingdom, will we?”

“I would have to agree, but the King’s opinion _is_ biased,” Ezekiel flashed her one of his brilliant, crinkly-eyed grins.

“I’m inclined to believe it either way,” Violet grinned back, no longer surprised by the soft fluttering in her gut. Was there anybody who could be at the receiving end of such a smile and _not_ feel something?

“You flatter me,” Ezekiel said, placing a hand to his heart and tilting forward into a slight bow.

“As if you’re not used to it,” Still grinning, Violet slid out of his coat and handed it back to him. “Thanks again… for everything.”

“Your gratitude is admirable. You will find the Kingdom is home to many of the same heart,” Ezekiel said. Once he'd folded his coat back over his arm, he extended a hand. “It is a pleasure to welcome you aboard, Lady Violet. Officially.”

Resisting the urge to thank him _again,_ Violet shook his hand firmly, marvelling in the strength of his grip. Something shifted between them then, something subtle, but strong. It was a step forward, and in that moment, a certainty settled over her like the warmth of his coat: this was _right_. Everything was going to be okay, the truth of which had finally reached her.

“I’d like to work with the horses, and help build up a stable block… but there’s still something else I need to do first,” Violet said. New revelations aside, there would be no sinking into this new life that awaited her until she knew there was nothing more she could do for the rest of her group. She wouldn't give up on them. She _couldn't._

“We understand your situation, and we will do all that is within our power to aid you,” The King needed no further explanation. “I trust to see you in the morrow, bright and early.”

“9am in the courtyard?”

“No later,” Ezekiel stepped back with a warm smile. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, and sleep well, my lady.”

“You too. Goodnight, Your Majesty,” The title still felt foreign on her tongue, but there was no stuttering over it this time - a by-product of the realisation that this man did indeed deserve that level of respect his people showed him.

Before she slipped through the doors of the clinic, she paused, unable to resist one last look at the King, and the confident set of his broad shoulders as he walked away. And then his head turned, just enough for a quick glance back at _her_.

A flush of heat prickled up Violet’s neck at being caught staring. Trying to play it off like it had been her plan all along, she raised her hand in a small wave. His answering grin stayed with her the whole way back to Esme’s room.

She didn’t realise she herself had been grinning ear-to-ear the whole time until Esme, who had been dozing quietly until Violet entered the room, looked at her and did a double-take, bleary eyes snapping open to full alertness.

“You’re happy,” It wasn’t a question.

“Happy is… a stretch,” Violet drifted to the chair by Esme’s bed, smiling wider when she started to feel an ache in her cheeks. “I feel _hopeful._ Maybe it’s just because that’s all anybody here has been banging on about for the past couple of days, but… it’s rubbing off on me.”

There was still too much anxiety tied to the thought of being happy. Too much guilt. But the strongest sting of shame had been healed in the quietest corner of the Kingdom. There would be more loss. There would be more death. There would always be a chance that she would be next. These were all inevitable facts of the new world. But the _best_ was yet to come, too. And though it would be foolish to pre-emptively assume that everything would work out fine, it would be even more foolish to let these smaller, more concrete victories go unappreciated too.

“I want to hear all about it. Tell me everything,” Esme patted the bed, inviting Violet to lay next to her again.

Violet took the spare blanket that had been thrown over the back of the chair with her and snuggled down next to Esme. They’d barely had a chance to speak, properly, since they’d arrived. So, she filled her in on everything that awaited her outwith the clinic walls. Happy, healthy people, and an assortment of animals, and a range of past-times, and a shower block, and the unorthodox memorial site; relationships, opportunities… a _life_.

The whole time, Esme’s fingers clenched and unclenched around Charlie’s old baseball cap. It hadn’t left her grip once since receiving it. When Violet finally ran out of things to say, and Esme was just quietly looking at the window, knuckles pale around the plastic strap, Violet tapped the top of the cap with her index finger.

“This is what he wanted.”

“I know,” Esme whispered, barely audible.

“He made it here too… in spirit. _We_ made it.”

“I know,” Esme sucked in a deep lungful of air and closed her eyes. “He would be mad if we squandered this. Could you imagine?”

“Too well!”

“I’m sorry for being so stubborn before.”

“Don’t be,” Violet rolled her head onto Esme’s shoulder and closed her own eyes. The images that flashed behind her lids were none too pleasant, and she immediately snapped them open again. “I know they’re still out there. I’m not going to stop until we find them.”

* * *

The whiskey burned as it slid down Ezekiel’s throat, warming his body from the inside out. It would have been a perfect remedy for the cold night had he been sharing the bottle under different circumstances. Instead, it was being used to ease tensions with one of his closest confidants in the privacy of the theater’s office-turned-study. The setting was casual, comforting for the both of them, but the topic of tonight’s conversation was far from it.

“The bottom line is that we’re _not_ prepared for _any_ kind of attack,” Richard said, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Those bandits were only _five miles_ away from our border. If they survived long enough to circle back in, we’re spread far too thin to cut them off. What if they followed this new pair in? What if they were part of a bigger group that comes looking?"

“What do suggest we do then?” Ezekiel swirled the alcohol in his short glass, watching the brown glint gold when it hit the right light.

“Give it one more day, then call it. We can’t afford to have anybody else leaving the Kingdom right now,” Though his position on the sofa across from Ezekiel’s was relaxed, Richard’s eyes were as hard as his words.

“There are people out there who need our help. It is within our power to give it to them. You would let them die?” Ezekiel met his gaze coolly.

“If it meant our own got to live? Yes,” Richard said, nodding once, slowly. “I know you didn’t ask to be in charge here, but everyone trusts you to be making those difficult decisions, _Your Majesty_. It’s your job to tell us how to keep them safe. We can’t do that if you’re sending some of our best fighters out on a wild goose-chase. When Jack and his team leave for the city, we're going to be down to a skeleton crew for security."

This was nothing he hadn’t heard before. All they ever seemed to do was run in circles when it came to their idea of who they had to be to survive this world. Against his better judgement, a part of Ezekiel was rising to the challenge below the surface of Richard’s words.

“I care more about the safety of those people than you seem to understand,” he let the royal edge fall away from his tone, and spoke firmly in his own voice. “But unlike _some,_ I still care about people other than my own too.”

“To what extent? How many resources will be wasted tracking people who, for all we know, are half-way across the state by now?”

“Be reasonable, Richard,” Ezekiel knocked back the remainder of his drink. The sharp heat momentarily distracted him from the unpleasant turn the night was taking.

It had only been a couple of hours ago that he was strolling through the Kingdom with one of their new arrivals. Violet was so small, and too thin, it was a wonder that _she_ hadn’t come to them with any broken bones. But there was fire within the haunted depths of her honey-brown eyes; ferocity simmered beneath the fragile exterior, and to deny her of the help she needed… He didn’t have it in him, not when every instinct screamed _help_ and _protect._

“I think I’m the only one who _is_ right now,” Richard scoffed, finished the rest of his drink, and sat forward for another. Despite the tension, Ezekiel held out his own glass, and Richard poured them both a generous amount. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight –”

“I know why you’re here,” Ezekiel cut him off. “And I really am grateful for your counsel. But you _must_ understand why we can’t give up on that group yet.”

“Trust me, I heard it all from Theo. Even Dianne has your back on this one,” Richard said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps _you_ should join them tomorrow and see why,” Ezekiel suggested. “Jerry and myself will take over your route,” Seeing the hard clench of Richard’s jaw, he quickly tacked on: “ _And_ I will increase security until we call off the search. We can shuffle a few schedules around for a while.”

Richard opened his mouth, then closed it again. With another sharp shake of his head, he took a large gulp of his whiskey. He sucked in a quick gasp of air through his teeth, and let his head fall back to look at the ceiling.

“How the fuck did we get here, Zeke?” he asked after a beat of silence.

“Luck,” Ezekiel replied automatically. Though he wasn't particularly religious, he didn’t quite believe luck was the only force at play, but he had enough good sense not to toss around words like _fate_ and _destiny_ in front of people who hadn’t been favoured.

Almost as if on cue, Shiva yawned loudly, startling the men who had forgotten she was sprawled put behind Ezekiel’s sofa. He twisted in his seat to watch her rise and stretch, flicking her tail in the air. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned her giant head expectantly.

“Good girl,” Ezekiel rubbed the space between her ears, grinning. Shiva’s eyes narrowed to slits as she relaxed beneath his touch. After a long moment of his undivided attention, she flopped back down to the floor with a heavy _thump_ , and released a sigh.

Watching the exchange had thawed Richard out. Across the low wooden table, a smile played on his thin lips, and a small chuckle shook his shoulders.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.”

“It does take a while,” Ezekiel assured him. “She’s settled in well here.”

“ _That_ didn’t take long,” Richard continued to laugh. “Remember when Nabila found her in the gardens?”

“I doubt I could ever forget!” Ezekiel laughed with him at the memory of Nabila, unconscious in the bushes of what was now known as the Royal Gardens. She hadn’t been expecting to see the big cat there, alone and unchained, and had fainted at the mere sight. When Ezekiel returned, entourage in tow, Shiva was sitting at the opposite side of the gardens, just watching. It was the first moment they – even himself – realised that there was absolutely no danger from his unorthodox choice of a post-apocalypse companion. Shiva liked her new home, and its inhabitants. They had been treating her like royalty from the get-go. Everyone knew that went a long way with a cat.

The atmosphere remained light while they reminisced on the early days of their community. From their first night’s sleep after the outer walls had been built, to the first birthday party they’d been able to celebrate, there was no shortage of good times in the midst of all the hardships. That's what it was all about in the end, wasn't it? Finding the silver linings where there appeared to be none.

“I do understand why you’re being so stubborn about this group,” Richard said eventually. “But I hope you understand why you _have_ to draw the line somewhere.”

“I do… I will,” Ezekiel’s brow furrowed at the thought of giving up. “Shall we compromise?”

“Let’s hear it.”

“One week. Give them one more week to find a solid lead. If they haven't found anything by the time Jack leaves... I'll call it.”

“That’s… fair,” Richard studied him over the rim of his glass, elbows on his knees. “I’ll go with them tomorrow, if only to see what all the fuss is about. But Kayleigh stays here. Poor kid was a wreck earlier.”

“Agreed,” Ezekiel’s lips pressed into a grim line. Though she bounced back twice as fast as any normal girl should have been able to, it had still been a sad sight to see her so bent out of shape.

Kayleigh was one of the few already holed up inside the school by the time Ezekiel and the small group he'd gathered along the way stumbled upon them. A year out of college; three weeks into a job as teaching assistant, and then it was all gone. Only her, four of her colleagues, and 12 students had survived within the barricaded school building – some of which hadn’t even left to be with family and friends, too scared to leave the safety of the thick walls, and some of which had come when everything, and everyone, else was lost to them.

 _That_ was the foundation upon which the Kingdom was built on. To be a solid beacon of light in the darkness; a promise of safety and warmth to all who needed a reprieve from the cold.

There had never been any need for Kayleigh to leave the comfort of what she now called home. But she knew the area, and was comfortable on the back of a horse. That had been invaluable at the start, but as time wore on and larger, older, stronger fighters stepped up to the plate, Kayleigh still refused to step off. She’d grown too used to patrolling the perimeters and picking up survivors that were lost among the suburbs – she was good at talking to people, and there had never been a reason for any of them to worry. But what she’d seen today was far beyond the realms of anything she’d ever had to deal with before.

“I saw you leaving the cafeteria with the short one – Violet, was it?”

“Yes,” Ezekiel said slowly, unsure of where Richard might have been going with that. “It’s been a lot to take in all at once. She’s struggling, naturally, so I took her to the memorial garden. Our conversation was… enlightening, on both our parts. She wants to work with the horses, but she _needs_ closure first.”

“Yeah, I get that, I do. I’m just worried about what it’s going to cost us.”

“Try thinking about what we might gain instead. Perhaps, then, you’ll see what compassion can be worth,” The words sounded more unpleasant than what he’d intended. He smoothed it over quickly by sitting forward and holding his glass out over the table. “How about a toast?”

“To?”

“The future, of course.”

“Of course,” Richard’s answering smile was small, but warm enough to reach his eyes when he reached forward to clink his glass against Ezekiel’s.

“To the future.”

* * *

For the second day in a row, it rained. Good for the abundance of plants and crops growing in the Kingdom – bad for the search party who had their hopes pinned on picking up a blood trail in the woods outwith their suburban borders.

Kayleigh’s place in their formation was now occupied by Richard, the grim man from the theater. When Ezekiel had seen them off again that morning, he’d clamped a hand onto Richard’s shoulder and muttered something in his ear. The way his stony eyes had flicked to Violet, who had just been boosted into the saddle by Jerry, had her thankful for the familiar weight of a dagger against her thigh.

She found herself sticking close to Dianne this time, drawn in by the sense of kinship beginning to form there.

“How’s Kayleigh doing? I didn’t get a chance to talk to her about what happened yesterday,” Violet asked her quietly. The atmosphere was different, like if she spoke too loud, or said one wrong word, it would shatter _something._

“She’s fine,” Dianne said. “Tougher than she looks, that one. You miss her when she’s not around, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Violet’s smile twisted into a grimace when the first pang of guilt hit her gut. There would’ve been nothing to be tough for had she just told the King to call the whole thing off.

The second pang of guilt came at the mere thought of giving up the search so soon, and so began a vicious cycle. Gratefulness that she had help from the same people taking such good care of Esme, then regret that they were risking their lives for others they didn’t know and might never find, then shame for imagining a near-future in which they all stopped looking, and they could all be safe – or as safe as anyone could be in the new world.

Richard spear-headed the group, keeping them at a trot until they hit the main roads. After a quick discussion with Gus, he ordered them all into a steady canter until they reached the highway. He’d yet to say so much as a simple ‘hello’ to Violet, but she was thankful for the opportunity to ride in silence. While her thoughts were askew and she was doubting every decision and conversation she’d had in the past few days, dwelling on his baffling hostility would only lead to an argument – of that, she _was_ sure.

“We’re gonna split up today. You three head into the woods and pick up where you left off yesterday. We’ll take the highway to look for any signs of activity,” Richard had an authoritative tone that left no room for questions. “You, Violet – you’ll be coming with me and Dianne.”

In the most horrible way, she was glad she'd be scouring the roads. There would be no need to pass the ditch in which they’d laid Lisa’s cold body, hidden only by a layer of leaves and dirt, and marked by a flimsy cross made of twigs. It was the same sick relief she’d felt when Richard had taken them down a different road that by-passed Charlie’s charred remains. She didn’t think she could handle seeing either of them again quite so soon.

When Gus, Chelsea, and Theo disappeared into the trees, the atmosphere grew strained, heavy with friction. It was as if Violet wasn’t even there; Richard's eyes were fixed, unwavering on the road ahead, and when he spoke, it was in short, clipped sentences. Once upon a time, it might’ve been hurtful. Now? It was understandable that he didn’t trust her yet, let alone have any reason to like her. If anybody was to keep her at arm's length, it made sense that it would be the head of security.

Violet chewed over an apology while they clopped along the highway, but ultimately decided it would have made matters worse. They weren’t out here for an awkward conversation about how her temper in the face of his distrust had immediately set them off on the wrong foot.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been out this far… but does it look different to you?” Dianne asked Richard after passing what could have been the twelfth or the twentieth abandoned car rusting at the side of the road.

“I was thinking the same thing. They’ve been moved,” he glanced at Violet then, just long enough for her to map his suspicion. It was such a ridiculous notion, she scoffed, and shook her head.

“Do you really think I had anything to do with this? _Really?”_

“I don’t think it’s out of the question that you’re hiding something. Make of that what you will,” A muscle in Richard’s grizzled jaw twitched, presumably from the effort of remaining civil.

Violent clamped her tongue between her teeth until the anger threatening to poison her words subsided. After a strained moment of silence, she spat out a low, “Whatever,” like a petulant teenager.

Leaning forward slightly, she ran her fingers through the mane of her horse, Willow. The coarse texture kept her firmly grounded in the moment. She knew who she was – she knew her own truth. One way or another, Richard would come to see that.

With Dianne as a buffer between them, they continued their ride in silence. Like it was in sync with the mood, the weather worsened and rain began to fall in thick sheets. Guilt rose within her again, as dark and stormy as the sky above.

Just as the bleak reality of the situation was about to set in, a bright glint in the middle of the road caught Violet’s eye.

“Hang on a second…” Kicking free of the stirrups, she slid smoothly out of the saddle, but stumbled when her feet hit the ground. Still, she hurried, almost losing her footing twice in her haste to reach the mysterious object.

“What is it?” Dianne pulled her horse to a halt, leaning as far off the saddle as she dared to try and see what Violet was gently turning over in the palm of her hand.

“It’s his ring,” Violet whispered. Then she cleared her throat, and said loud enough for them both to hear her. “It’s Derek’s ring.”

It didn’t look like anything special. Just a simple silver band engraved with a generic Celtic knot, the cheap sort of jewellery found in trinket stores or souvenir stalls. But it was the first gift his wife had ever given him, and he treasured it like it was made of solid gold. Even more so since her death almost three months ago.

“Any blood?” Richard circled them both slowly, scanning for any hint of a struggle.

“No, it’s clean… He dropped it on purpose.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know _him,_ ” Violet snapped at Richard, all but baring her teeth as she pushed herself back to her feet. “He wouldn’t just _lose_ something like this. He’s letting us know he’s still alive. Taking a chance that we’d be here to find it…”

“He was travelling with a wounded kid, right?” Dianne asked.

“Like we’d find a blood trail after all this,” Violet motioned vaguely. The road was black with the rain, which was bouncing hard off the tarmac. The small flame of hope in her chest flickered and she spun in a circle, entirely lost. She wanted to scream at the heavens, to plead and beg for an answer to the question ringing through her head.

_What now?_


	7. Something's Gotta Give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a couple weeks time-skip in this one because I just really wanted to wrap this arc up in time for the new year. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me so far - your patience is absolutely about to pay off in the next arc. Happy holidays, and stay safe! x

-  
 _Say enough is enough,_  
 _I'm dying to live._  
-

So, they had a lead. It wasn’t solid, but was something, even if it did raise more questions than they'd started with. Did he drive off alone? Did he get picked up by another survivor? Which direction did he go? Did he even get in a vehicle? Was he still waiting somewhere nearby?

Violet had become quickly overwhelmed by the possibilities. On her behalf, Dianne had rounded up the rest of their troupe and together, they’d strategised a new game plan. Their support moved her deeply, and half-way back to the old shell of a school they called home, she burst into tears she’d been unable to stop until they were about two miles out from the gates.

Brushing down her horse and cleaning the tack had given her mind time to settle. Though there was no bad news to hide from, she found herself itching to fall into the comfort of a routine. Dianne all but threw her out of the make-shift yard before she could idly drift towards another chore, and told her to come back later if she wanted to. On the promise that she would, Violet finally hurried back to Esme.

It was warm in the clinic, and a hard shiver ran through her at the sudden change in temperature. In her soggy clothes, she left a dripping trail through the halls, cringing with each squeak of her wet boots on the linoleum. Right outside Esme’s room, she stopped when she heard the unmistakeable timbre of the King’s voice. Heart jumping at the sound, she leaned in, listening hard. Whatever he'd said was followed by a trill of laughter from Esme. Violet’s shoulders sagged with relief, and on that, she let herself in.

What she wasn’t prepared for upon seeing Ezekiel relaxed in the soft blue chair by Esme's bed, was a pleasant fluttering in her stomach. The shock of such implications had her frozen for just a second before they both turned to grin at her so brightly, her feet drew her forward unthinkingly, pulled in by their happiness.

“There she is! I have a bone to pick with you, chick,” Esme’s tone remained light, despite her choice of words. “You didn’t tell me the boss was so… _charming_.”

“Oh, come now, my lady! I’ll be lucky to get my head back out through the door if you keep this up,” Ezekiel chuckled, and patted her hand like they were old friends. “Did today’s venture fare you well, Violet?”

“It did… kind of,” Violet fished the ring out of her pocket and ran her fingers over the engraving again. “I found this in the middle of the road. It means at least one of them is still out there.”

“Is that – ?” Esme gasped, reaching out.

“It is,” Violet dropped the ring into her waiting palm. “Derek made it to the highway, Esme. He’s alive.”

A small sob escaped the older woman, and she brought the ring up to her lips. Two silent tears slipped down her cheeks, and her eyes closed. When she opened them again, they were shining with so much love, it drew a lump into Violet’s throat.

“You keep this, Vi. He’s going to want it back when you find him.”

“I don’t think it’s gonna fit any of my fingers,” Violet swallowed hard, wincing as it pushed past the hard knot of emotion.

“Did I say you had to wear it on your hands?”

Ezekiel rose slowly to his feet, and that alone was enough to get their attention. “If I may? I would be happy to retrieve a length of string, should that suffice for a necklace.”

“That would be… great, actually. Only if you don’t mind. I’m sure Dana’s got some in a drawer somewhere, I can just –”

“A King lives to serve his people, does he not?” he quirked an eyebrow as he swept by, and another flutter rose through Violet's stomach. “Dana is indeed the first port of call – I will be but one moment.”

“Thank you,” she resisted the urge to watch him leave, and settled herself on the edge of the bed instead. Esme, however, _did_ watch him go, and when the door clicked shut behind him, she whistled long and low.

“He is a _fine_ man... Do they all look like that out there?”

“Esme!” An unexpected flash of heat touched Violet’s cheeks.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ , am I not allowed to appreciate good looks in my old age?” Esme laid a hand over her collarbone in mock affront. She looked, and sounded, more like herself than she had done in a few days. The King seemed to have done quite the number on her, but that had been expected. Violet knew the power of his words – that _smile_.

“Of course you are!” she paused, then admitted, sheepishly, “I certainly don’t blame you.”

“Who would?” Esme sighed, sinking further into her pillows. A furrow appeared between on her brow when she looked at Violet again, properly this time. “You need something dry to change into. We got our old ones back while you were out, and a bag of new ones. Hayley dropped them off.”

“You mean Kayleigh?”

“Yes, sorry. She talks _fast,_ doesn’t she?”

“She’s got a lot to say,” Violet laughed.

Just as she was pawing through the bag of fresh clothes, wondering how they had so many to spare, and deciding she probably didn't want or need to know the answer, there were three brisk knocks on the door. With no doubt as to who was on the other side, Esme patted her wild mess of curls and caught Violet’s eye. The two shared a knowing smile.

Ezekiel had returned with an entire ball of string, a small pair of scissors, and assurances that he hadn’t even needed to leave the building to find them. But he wasn’t done helping yet.

“Tell me when to stop,” He slowly unwound the string in a line, letting Violet judge the length she wanted. When it was long enough to simply loop over her head, she snipped it and knotted it three times, just to be safe.

The ring dropped beneath her shirt, cool and heavy. Absently, her fingers reached to press it against her heart, and she sent out a vow to the universe, praying that wherever Derek was, he would somehow feel it, and know: _this isn’t the end.  
_

* * *

One week passed in the blink of an eye. Every morning, the established team of scouts would pick a place on a map they were guessing had the most potential for survivors. It was always within a half day’s ride so they were never on the wrong side of the Kingdom walls when night fell. Limiting themselves for safety's sake didn't seem like the best way forward, but none of the places they'd looked had so much as a smudge of dirt out of place anyway; nobody had been around to leave a trail.

While Violet was out all day, Esme got involved with the locals instead of “withering away” in her room, as she'd so eloquently put it. None other than the King himself had given her a full tour of his Kingdom in one of the five wheelchairs stored in the clinic. He took it in turns with Kayleigh to walk her around the grounds, introducing her to the head laundress, Prue; the top chefs, siblings Bryce and Jodie; the horse mistress, Anita; the head gardener, Nabila; the small gaggle of teachers, the weapons experts… Everyone that was anyone, Esme wanted to meet them. Already, she was doing marginally better at integrating herself than Violet, who, by the end of the first week, had done nothing but grow incredibly frustrated with her fruitless quest to find another lead.

At the start of week two, when another team of fighters left for a supply run, Ezekiel had informed her that he'd be pulling his knights from her cause. Too many resources were being funnelled into the effort, and they needed the Knights to be on Kingom grounds. It simply wasn't sustainable, which was entirely reasonable, but she understood what it meant. A small, guilty part of her had been relieved, but the rest of her remained stubborn and true. So, she’d dug her heels in and doubled down – alone.

There had been more resistance to that plan of action than she’d anticipated. Esme’s maternal instincts had gone into overdrive, and she’d talked herself into a right old panic.

“You’ve never been on your _own_ out there! What if something happens to you? How will we _know?_ I want the rest of my family back, but I don’t want to lose you in the process! Can't the King spare just _one_ more person to go with you? Oh, I don't even want to _imagine_ what could go wrong... _”_

Kayleigh hadn’t been _quite_ as upset, but she had followed Violet around the stables one evening rattling off a list of questions like what weapons she could wield and how quickly she could reload a gun, if at all; she wanted to know how much she could carry; how good her hearing and eyesight was, and what survival techniques she’d picked up over the past months.

The ‘cavalry,’ as Ezekiel liked to call them, had been apprehensive of letting her go solo too, and gifted her with a thick black chest-piece of her own for protection. Even Richard, in all his gruffness, had tried to dissuade her in the only way he knew how.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, you know that, right? But, hey, if you want to make sure this was all for nothing, you go right on ahead.”

And then, of course, the final word had come from Ezekiel himself. He made it known that even though he understood her determination, and admired her loyalty, he absolutely hated the idea of where it might land her. So, he'd made her promise to stick within the confines of pre-determined routes, and to be back in time for supper.

“The survival of my people is paramount. That includes you now too, Violet. It would ease the minds of many if you swear to the King that you will take the necessary precautions to ensure your safe return.” 

An easy promise to make, and an even easier one to keep. The first couple of days with just her horse for company was rough at best. There was very little searching going on, and a whole lot of adjusting. She hadn’t realised how focused fear and adrenaline could get when there was no one to share it with. Killing the Growlers that stumbled onto her path without a single person at her back rattled her. If it went wrong, it went wrong; there were no second chances – it would simply be over.

More than once, she considered calling it quits. Nobody would think less of her, except maybe Richard, who would most definitely hit her with an “I told you so” at the very least. And so pride became a driving factor, keeping her elevated towards the main goal: _find the others._

For the most part, on roads and paths that required little steering on Violet’s end, she simply let the reins fall loose. Her horse, the light bay mare Willow, would just plod along happily, but retained the freedom to stop, or skitter to one side or the other if she sensed trouble without any resistance from the human on her back. Violet worked _with_ her, not against her, to keep them both safe and ahead of danger.

By the end of the second week, the quest to find anything or anyone had drifted into more of a dream than an attainable goal. She was simply going through the motions, clinging to the hope that she’d catch a break if she just kept holding on.

In the early morning of the sixteenth day of the search, Esme caught her hand before she left their new room - a moderately sized set-up in a block of the school occupied by the rest of the Kingdom's old-timers, just like Dana had promised. 

“You’re tired, Vi.”

“I am...” she agreed slowly, “But I promised I wouldn’t stop. I can’t -”

Esme’s grip on her hand tightened and she pulled her closer. The new angle allowed her to see the sheen of tears in her soft brown eyes, and immediately, she sank back onto the bed. In the face of her 'surrogate mother's' sadness, she was powerless.

“It’s been over two weeks. What if you never find them, hm? What if they’re already gone?”

“But… I thought you – I mean, didn’t we say – ?”

“Not at the cost of your life. Not any more,” Esme sniffed and wiped at a stray tear. “I’ve had a lot of time to get to know these people, to just... think. Stay, Violet. Derek will never forgive you if you get yourself hurt or killed for his sake. None of them will.”

Pain twisted in Violet’s chest, but it didn’t leave her breathless. The wounds were no longer raw or festering. They were _healing,_ and she hadn’t even noticed. As a quick experiment, she imagined throwing in the towel and cutting her losses. For the first time since arriving at the Kingdom, the thought didn’t hurt; she didn’t flinch away from it.

“One more day, alright? Then it’s over.”

“Be careful, chick,” Esme kissed her knuckles and clapped the back of her hand firmly before releasing her.

The crisp morning air swept the threat of tears from the back of Violet’s throat. The steady inhale-exhale of her breath was the only thing she focused on as she strode to the stables to ready Willow. Every move was methodical, so familiar that she was able to flip into auto-pilot until a voice interrupted her.

“May the King accompany you today, my lady?”

“Your Majesty!” Violet’s head snapped round. Standing by the stall of a sturdy black mare, coat hanging open to reveal his armour, Ezekiel looked ready for a trip beyond the Kingdom walls. “Of course! You won’t catch me refusing a royal escort. Where’s Shiva?”

“She will not be joining us,” A swift, short answer he did not elaborate on. 

“Okay, uh… okay, just gimme a sec and I’ll get that lovely lady tacked up for you.”

“I can ready my own steed -”

“That’s no job for a King, is it?” she shot him a cheeky smirk, at which he snorted a laugh and just shook his head.

Violet pulled Willow’s thick fringe out from beneath the brow band, then hurried to get Ezekiel’s chosen mount ready before he could make a start himself. It was the very least she could do if he was taking time out of his day to help her. It had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the blooming crush she was developing on him – not at all! – nope, not in the _slightest._

In record time, she’d tacked up the well-mannered mare, Nyx (appropriately named by Anita), and walked her over to Ezekiel. A blue feather lay flat against his dreadlocks today. She couldn’t help but notice it matched the shirt beneath his chest-piece.

“Many thanks, my lady,” he said smoothly. As had become the norm whenever his voice pitched in such a way to address her, a prickle of heat crept up Violet’s neck. The warmth in his eyes only served to make her skin hotter.

“Thank _you._ It’ll be nice to have some company out there again. Human company, I mean,” Violet said, patting Willow’s neck fondly.

“We acquire little in this life without the hand of another,” The King bent to lace his fingers together into a step for her. He motioned with his head, eyebrows jumping as if to say 'For example…'

“Point well made,” While she'd been out and about on her own, she'd gotten into the habit of looking for stones or fences to leap from, but she wasn't going to decline his invitation. She was able to swing herself into the saddle with far more ease than the first time he’d helped her do so, and she hoped he would notice that.

She was doing a lot of things with more ease these days. Two weeks of a steady diet, and full nights of sleep had brought her back from the stick-thin husk she’d arrived in. The weight she was putting on made her strong, filling out her frame to make riding and holding a weapon for longer periods of time easier. She was positive that given time, she’d be stronger and healthier than she’d ever been Before.

“I haven’t had the chance to speak with you for a couple of days,” Ezekiel said once the Kingdom gates had swung shut behind them. “How have you been?”

“Busy! But good, I suppose, all things considered. What about you?”

“Much of the same... All things considered. Are we following any new leads today?”

“No. I haven’t found anything new since…” Violet raised a hand to her chest. There was no touching Derek’s ring through the armour, but it pressed tight enough against her skin that there was no forgetting what she’d lost.

“Then what are we looking for?” Ezekiel asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Violet said, frowning at her hands. It was a question she’d been avoiding for some time. Whenever that whisper of doubt had slunk into her mind, she’d silenced it with a firm image of Derek, Heidi, Sara and Sebastian. She was looking for her friends. Beyond that was the end of the line; failed promises and empty spaces that might never be filled again. Even now, after everything, those weren’t easy things to accept.

Ezekiel pushed it no further, and instead moved the conversation onto a safer topic. “Tell me something else then. You have a way with our horses… did you work with them before our world changed?”

“Yes, actually,” That was something she _did_ know the answer to, and one she would be happy to expand on. “My uncle had a riding school, and he gave us free lessons in exchange for yard-work growing up. I went off to college, but my sister stuck with it and made a name for herself on the show-jumping circuit. Her husband was a breeder, which meant they were _very_ comfortable. They put their money into a dude-ranch out by Huntington, and ended up with about twenty ponies on the main yard, and five show horses in their private one. It was _a lot_ of work, so I helped where I could.”

“Life has kept you busy! When did you ever find time for yourself?”

“I… didn’t, I guess. But my family were my whole life, you know? So, it wasn’t all work all the time. It sure didn’t feel like it anyway.”

A myriad of memories bubbled to the fore-front of Violet’s mind. Some of them so strong she could almost taste the cherry cocktails her sister used to make to watch the sunset from the porch; the happy cries of her nieces and nephews as Violet’s dogs chased them round the back yard rang in her ears; the smell of her brother-in-law’s infamous lasagna wrapped round her heart and made her stomach growl.

It had certainly been a busy life. But it had been a _happy_ one.

“You mentioned college… What did you study?”

"I majored in art history, believe it or not," she laughed, shifting her weight in the saddle. "You sure do have a lot of questions today."

“Apologies, my lady,” Ezekiel said playfully. “I’m just ever so curious.”

Whether he was joking or not, the giddiness flipping Violet’s stomach and pushing her cheeks up into a beaming grin was real. She would tell him whatever he wanted to know… but he already knew _that._

As they rode, they ran through the usual ice-breaker questions and he discovered that her favourite colour was a soft blue, she was a sucker for a good romance movie, but her favourite books were thrillers, and all genres of 80’s music would always hold a special place in her soul. In return, Ezekiel told her that his favourite colour was orange, deep like the shade of Shiva’s coat, and unsurprisingly, he liked classic literature by writers long gone – Shakespeare, Bronte, Wilde. He had a soft spot for animated movies and documentaries, favouring them over live-action flicks that were all grit and sex and violence, and he whole-heartedly agreed that music peaked in the 80’s.

From there, the questions descended gradually into thoughtful conversations about how society had been carving their own circle of Hell on earth for a long time before it eventually spun out of their control; how religion, and a million different prayers to at thousand different gods hadn’t mattered in the end. They pondered the vastness of space, and what survivors in their floating stations high above the stratosphere could see now – what did the earth look like when every single light had gone out? When all the factories and machines had stopped pumping out smoke? Did they notice how quickly nature reclaimed her own?

Before they could acknowledge that everyone in those space stations were doomed to an even worse fate than those left behind on earth, Ezekiel joked that without the constant signals they were pinging out into the galaxy, aliens would finally figure it safe to check this planet out.

There was a long, silent moment where they just looked at each other, wanting to say it was an impossible image, but considering the world they lived in now, having seen the things they'd seen... a visit from aliens was a very real, very plausible possibility, and yet it would still be the absolute least of their concerns. They burst into a fit of laughter at the same time, and another invisible wall shattered between them.

There was something about this man. King Ezekiel, tamer of wild beasts, who could spark a blaze or calm a storm with his words alone. Among the monotonous grey, he was a shining beacon of colour – exuding a light that touched everyone who had the pleasure of knowing him. It was so warm, so _bright,_ there was no stopping that kind of influence seeping through the cracks and lighting up the dark hollows of one's heart.

Before they both knew it, the highway stretched before them, bordered by vehicles that Richard and Dianne decided definitely _had_ been moved, but were otherwise untouched. Whoever had come by with the means to clear a path hadn't returned, and it didn't look like they ever would.

“I keep coming back here like something’s going to have changed,” Violet admitted with a heavy sigh. “There’s never anything new, no matter where I look.”

“That is… partly why I joined you today,” Ezekiel said slowly, picking his words with care. “Maybe it’s time to call off this search entirely.”

A jab of something akin to betrayal twisted through her chest and a scowl darkened her face. In a huff, she dismounted and landed with a thump that shot a hard vibration up through her heels. “Did Esme put you up to this?”

“She may have mentioned it in the passing…” Ezekiel stayed atop his own mount, walking alongside Violet as she stalked towards the spot where she’d found Derek’s ring, ready to scour the area for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Well, you’ve wasted your time. I already told her that this would be my last day out here.”

“Do not misunderstand me. I am here today because _I_ am worried,” The King trotted forward to cut her off. Willow threw her head, protesting the sudden stop with a sharp nicker. The reins almost jerked right out of Violet’s hands, and her glower deepened.

“Neither of you had any reason to worry. I’ve been doing just fine.”

“Have you? _Truly?_ You comb these lands alone every day, searching the same places, running yourself in circles… What has that achieved other than burning yourself out? Something has _got_ to give, sooner or later.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, thoughtless. The words she'd been keeping bottled up began to pour out, barely coherent. “Do you really think I was out here believing I stood a _chance?_ You think I didn’t want to give up when you and your people did? Huh? I know there’s nothing – there’s nobody left, but I _couldn’t –_ I _can’t –_ How am I supposed to let it go? How can _Esme_ just let this go? Derek is _alive_ out here, and _I_ _can’t find him!”_

Breathing heavily, Violet clenched her teeth and pressed her forehead against the wide slope of Willow’s neck. The burning threat of tears rose and fell as she breathed in the musty scent of her coat. Curious, the mare dipped her large head and brushed her nose against the back of Violet’s legs.

Murmuring a quiet word of reassurance, Violet stepped back and wiped her forehead, releasing a shaky breath. An apology was on the tip of her tongue as she turned back to Ezekiel, but the words died when she saw he had quietly dismounted and stood watching her, eyes wide and brimming with sympathy like he wanted to do something, _anything_ to help.

There was nothing he could say to make her feel better in that moment. But she didn’t want his words this time, and it must’ve shown. After a beat of silence, he stepped closer, arms raising. Reins still clutched tightly in one hand, she melted into him without hesitation.

Ezekiel was solid and warm; this close she could smell the faint, earthy aroma of the oil he used in his dreadlocks, and the signature whiff of lavender that clung to his clothes. There was something else there, something she couldn’t place, but breathing it in, deep and slow, did wonders to calm the sudden racing of her heart. In the circle of his arms, she felt oh, so small, but for the first time in months, _years,_ she also felt completely and utterly safe and sound.

Screwing her eyes shut, she squeezed him tighter, her nails almost splitting into his coat as she strove to burrow deeper into his embrace. And Ezekiel obliged. One arm secured her back, and the other wound firmly around her shoulders to tuck her face into his chest. His thick, salt-and-pepper beard scratched her forehead when he rested his cheek against her head, settling in to hold her for as long as she needed him to.

The small, cool beads on the leather ropes of his necklace dug into her cheekbone, but she did not move, not even an inch. It was one thing to see how Ezekiel’s kindness saturated the world around him, it was something else entirely to be fully enveloped in the heart of that radiance.

“I’m right here with you, Violet. It’s gonna be okay,” he said in a low tone that sounded different, somehow. It reverberated through her chest, and hit her suddenly: the King’s mask had dropped. There was no regal air accenting his words. For the very first time, he’d spoken to her in his own voice, as nothing or no one more than simply… Ezekiel.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, lips brushing ever so slightly against the bare skin of his collarbone.

The intimacy of the moment finally sank in, and her pulse jumped. The swell of emotion it pushed through her body rose into her throat, catching her next breath. The impulse to twist her head and press her lips fully to the hollow of his throat came on so fast, it made her dizzy.

They stayed like that until their horses began to shift restlessly by their side. Violet grimaced; she wasn’t ready to step out of this bubble, not just yet.

“Do you feel better?” Ezekiel pulled back slightly.

“Loads, actually. I really needed that,” she said, making the mistake of looking up into his face. He was so _close,_ close enough that if she rose onto her tiptoes, she’d find out if the King was as good at kissing her as he was at hugging her.

What would it feel like to have his tongue sweep into her mouth as he continued to hold her flush against his body? What did he taste like? Would he thread his fingers through her hair, or would he caress her neck? So many possibilities spun through Violet’s mind while she lost herself in the depth of his dark eyes, struck with the realisation of just how badly she wanted him. The desire was all-consuming, burning through the pain, the anger, the sorrow, until the heat of his body was the only thing left on her mind.

In that still, timeless moment of madness where she found herself gearing up to throw all caution to the wind, she saw the surprise flash over his face at what he could read on hers. Surprise that shifted quickly into understanding. A slow smile curled at the corners of his lips, and the hand still on her back tightened into her jacket. 

“Violet –”

Before he could finish his sentence, their horses were thrown into a sudden panic. Nyx let out a piercing whinny and jolted to the side, yanking Ezekiel with her; Willow reared up and pulled her reins free of Violet's grasp. Their nostrils flared wide, eyes rolling in fear.

“ _Whoa!_ What the –”

“Easy, girl!” Violet jumped to catch Willow, almost dislocating her shoulder in the process. But the mare kept moving, still throwing her head and chomping at the bit to get away. “Shh, calm, sweetheart, calm now…”

There was only one thing that elicited such distress out here. And sure enough, just seconds later, the chillingly familiar growls of the dead rose above the commotion. Violet whipped her head round to see at least three wasted bodies shuffling round the side of a rusted red van, far too close for comfort.

“ _Shit!_ Ezekiel!”

“Don't let the horses go!”

Ezekiel pressed Nyx's reins into Violet's hand and ripped his cane from where it was attached to the saddle . He whirled to face the fast-approaching Growlers, dreadlocks swinging in an arc around his shoulders. As he spun, he pulled the head of his cane off to reveal the long, slim sword hidden within. The blade flashed through the air, slicing the skulls of two before the tip disappeared into the forehead of the third.

Their bodies hit the ground with dull thumps, but that wasn’t the end. Another snarl drifted through the momentary silence, then another, and another…

“Looks like we’ve attracted an audience!”

“They’re not worth an encore!” Violet wouldn’t be able to keep holding _two_ of their horses while Ezekiel fought off the unknown number of Growlers heading towards the highway. “Come on!”

“As the lady wishes!” High on the thrill of adrenaline, Ezekiel beamed, sheathing his sword on the run.

When he reached her, he barely had to stop to give Violet the boost she needed. Ready and waiting, one second was all she needed to spring up and into the saddle.

“We’re getting good at that!” he winked, and patted her calf.

The electricity of his touch, even through her boot, lingered long after he vaulted cleanly onto his own horse, even with his cane in hand. It tingled across her skin as they galloped back down the highway, side by side. It sung through her veins as the wind whipped their hair back, and Ezekiel let loose a triumphant laugh.

Exhilaration tore a joyous yell from Violet’s chest, and with it, the shadows she’d been chasing finally relinquished their hold on the part of her that had never really escaped the woods.

It was far from over. Derek was still out there, but he was _alive,_ and for now, that would just have to be enough.

* * *

In the few hours they’d been gone, the Kingdom had changed. Chores had been abandoned in favour of crowding the main courtyard. Some people had formed small groups and were muttering with each other, off to the side. Some were simply waiting, quietly, but impatiently wringing their hands, chewing their nails, or checking their watches.

As soon as the gates swung open and their King returned, the buzz rose to an excited pitch that caught both Ezekiel and Violet off guard.

“Your Majesty!” A tall, broad man wove his way through the throng of people, hand raised in greeting. Kitted out in a full set of Kingdom armour, grimy with grease and dirt and dried blood, it took Violet a moment to recognise him. Then he shook his matted blonde curls out of his eyes and she remembered him as the man who often occupied Ezekiel’s cafeteria table with his sons, Benjamin and Henry.

“Jack!” Ezekiel dismounted as quick as he could to give the man a swift, but firm embrace. In the presence of his people, he slid back into his royal persona with ease. “We were not expecting you all back until the morrow at the very least! Are you well?”

“I’m fine, but –”

“And the others?”

“We’re all fine, honestly,” Jack laughed heartily, clapping the King’s shoulder. “ _But_ … there’s a situation.”

“Oh?”

Intrigued, Violet joined everyone else on the ground. Given the general atmosphere, it was safe to assume they had come back to a _good_ situation for a change, and she didn’t want to miss a word of it.

“We ran into someone on the road. Or rather, _he_ ran into _us.”_

“What’s his name?” Ezekiel and Violet asked the question simultaneously, sharing a quick glance of excitement. _It couldn't be... could it_ _?_

Jack raised his eyebrows and barked out another short laugh, like it was some silly inside joke they were yet to hear. Skepticism dripped from his tone when he replied: “His name is Paul, but he says we can call him Jesus.”


	8. Brace Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to split this chapter into two parts because it ended up getting so out of control lmao. But hey, Jesus is here now! Apologies in advance if his character feels a little... off, I guess? I've been meaning to do a S6/7 rewatch for a while, but... life!  
> Things are gonna start heating up on all fronts from here on out anyway, so enjoy! x

_-_  
 _You hear me, but are you listening?_  
-

King Ezekiel sat tall and proper on his throne, cane in one hand, Shiva’s chain in the other. The giant cat moved restlessly by his side; her tail flicked back and forth, but her eyes remained centred on the stranger before them.

For being the main focus of her attention, Paul Rovia, or rather, _Jesus_ , held a cool demeanour. Bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Westernised depiction of his name-sake, his back was ram-rod straight, but his long, light hair spilled over shoulders that were loose and relaxed. Though unarmed and outnumbered, his gloved hands hung freely at his side, entirely at ease with the predicament he’d found himself in. There was an air of confidence about him, like this was nothing he couldn’t talk his way out of.

“I half expected a bullet in the back by now,” he admitted casually, as if this was an every day occurrence. “You didn’t keep me alive just to feed me to your tiger, did you?”

“We mean you no harm, traveller, but the King’s knights believe this meeting is not accidental. Their judgement weighs heavy, so I must ask that you speak plainly. Why are you here?”

Jesus’ eyebrows shot up beneath the edge of his beanie at the majestic lilt to Ezekiel’s tone. Even those who couldn’t see the flash of shock on his bearded face recognised the long pause in which his brain worked through the gears to catch up and catch on to what was happening.

Before he could lose his composure, Jesus steeled himself with a quick roll of his shoulders and a deep breath. “I’m here on behalf of my own community. They don’t know I’m _here_ here, talking to you like this. Usually, I’m in and out with everything we need, no strings attached, but… I didn’t have much of a choice this time.”

“It was your intention to steal from our Kingdom?” Ezekiel tilted his head slightly. To his left, Richard ripped his pistol from its holster and barked a harsh: _"What?"_

At the sudden shift in atmosphere on stage, one of Shiva’s ears flicked, and a deep growl rumbled in her chest.

“You asked me to speak plainly!” Jesus raised his hands helplessly. “It was impossible to get in here without an invitation… but I severely underestimated your people.”

“We’re not as dumb as we look, huh?” To Ezekiel's right, Jack smirked, proud and satisfied. It was a stark contrast to Richard's thunderous expression.

“Ah, now I never said _that_ , did I?” Jesus replied lightly. “I’m hoping you’ll still hear me out, either way.”

“I will,” Ezekiel said. Anticipating an adverse reaction from Richard, he lifted two fingers from Shiva’s chain in a silent ‘hold on’ gesture. “However, should you fail to convince the King that your actions are adequate to your cause, you _will_ have to answer to Shiva. She has little patience for those who mean harm to this realm.”

“That’s reasonable.” Jesus glanced at the beast, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. The weight of the situation was finally setting in. The chain that held her was simply for show; no one person had the strength to stop a three-hundred pound tiger from pouncing should _she_ decide he was a threat to them. “I promise I don't mean _anybody_ harm. I'm not here to fight. My community is well-established, but we’re not exactly _thriving_ at the moment. We have a doctor, but we’re severely lacking in medical supplies. I don’t think I need to explain why that’s urgent.”

“Your people are suffering?”

“You could say that.” The question triggered a shutter to come down over Jesus' open expression. “People have already died, and will continue to die if I don’t deliver, and that’s a given.”

“So you understand why our supply is precious,” Ezekiel's eyes narrowed by a fraction at the suspicious shift in his tone. “We have few rules here, but the first is very simple: drink from the well, replenish the well. What can you offer us in exchange for our medicine?”

“Honestly? Not a whole lot right now.” Jesus ground his teeth and the steady eye contact he’d been maintaining faltered. After an awkward pause, he dropped a bomb. “We’re already in agreement with another group. They’re draining us dry.”

“ _Another_ group?” Ezekiel sat forward sharply enough that his guards reacted instinctively. Weapons were drawn and steps were taken without any thought as to where they were going.

In retaliation to the sudden, unsure movements, Shiva whipped round and fell into a protective crouch before the King. An ear-splitting snarl ripped from her bared teeth in a dangerous warning for _everyone_ to _stop_ and _stay back_.

Jesus was the only one who didn’t flinch hard and skitter away, mainly because he had frozen solid instead. Eyes blown wide in terror, he held his palms up flat to show he absolutely _wasn’t_ trying to pull a fast one. Hell, the poor guy didn’t even look like he was breathing any more.

“Steady… steady…” Ezekiel laid a calming hand on the scruff of Shiva’s neck, but he was dazed, glancing around the auditorium without really seeing it. Not half an hour ago, they’d been the only organised group of survivors for miles… or so they’d thought. Then along came this strange man, Paul ‘Call-Me-Jesus’ Rovia, to tell them there wasn’t just one more, but _two?_

Suddenly, he was searching for Violet among the crowd at Jesus' back. She had been out there _alone_ every day for a _week_ , entirely unprepared to have dealt with anything more than a few of the wasted. The chances had been _so high_ that she could've found far more than she was bargaining for, and none of them had a clue. It could've been more than just the dead trying to get their hands on her... But there! There she was! In his theater, among his people; staring up at him disbelievingly from behind Dianne, like she could hardly believe her luck either.

Ezekiel took a deep, cleansing breath. The tender moment they’d shared on the highway had solidified a connection of some sort between the two. She hadn’t asked to join them in the theater and he hadn’t asked her to leave. There’d been an unspoken agreement that they’d started this day together, and they would see it through to the end – together. So, that she really was still there, safe and in his sights, brought him a measure of comfort he didn’t have time to consciously address quite yet. 

“My apologies, Jesus. You certainly caught the King off-guard with this news.” Ezekiel cleared his throat, still stroking absently down the back of Shiva’s head. “Are you at liberty to discuss the terms of your agreement with this… _other_ group?”

“I don’t see why not.” Jesus' face was still a sickly shade of grey. He lowered his shaking hands to cover his heart, and wheezed a short, humourless laugh. “Sorry, just gimme a second. That was – that was – _oh_ _,_ holy _shit_.”

“Shiva is understandably on edge, as we all are. Take your time.” Ezekiel patted Shiva’s hind. Grumbling, she lowered reluctantly onto her belly, but that was as far as she went. There was no budging her from his feet, where she was still coiled and ready to spring at a second’s notice.

“Okay, I’m good, I’m good.” The colour was starting to return to Jesus’ cheeks. “Can I give you a bit of advice? You’re gonna want to keep her on the down-low when anyone else comes knocking.”

“Should we be expecting more visitors?” Ezekiel’s fingers clenched tight around his cane, nostrils flaring as he fought to keep his cool. The conversation had already taken a hard turn south, and Jesus’ riddles suggested there was still far worse to come.

“With a community this size? Yes. I don’t know when… but the Saviors _will_ find you. It’s what they do.” Jesus’s upper lip curled in disgust. “They'll take half of everything you have, maybe more. And if they know you have a god damn _tiger_ protecting you _?_ They’ll keep her or kill her. And they’ll kill _you_ if you try to stop them.”

Richard swore loudly and spun on his heel, rubbing a hand roughly up the back of his skull. This was exactly the kind of situation he had foreseen happening. On the throne, Ezekiel had become very still, avoiding meeting his eye. This was not the time nor the place to have to eat his words. He'd been so sure they were untouchable - _too_ sure. But Richard had known the truth from the get-go. And Ezekiel hadn't listened.

No matter how much he wanted to get away from the lights and the expectant stares of his guard, he still had a job to do. This was _big._ This was _scary._ And they were looking to him now to make those hard decisions Richard had been talking about. They needed him to tell them it would all be okay, that he would handle it, that they didn't have to worry; everything and everyone would be fine.

“I see…” It took a great deal of self-control to keep his mask in place, and his voice level. “Well then, if what you tell the King is true, Jesus, then how do you suppose we have enough resources to support your community _and_ the one forthcoming? I will not leave my people short –”

“You don’t have –”

“Hey, don’t be rude!” It was Jerry who cut Jesus off, his face falling into an uncharacteristically sharp frown. “Let His Majesty talk.”

“Thank you, Jerry,” Ezekiel said in a clipped tone. His patience was wearing dangerously thin, and he wasn’t sure how much more strain it could take before snapping all together. “ I will not leave my people short of supplies that we may soon be in dire need of ourselves. If we can come to an arrangement where we are not losing assets but rather _sharing_ them, then the Kingdom will consider allying itself with your people.”

Jesus opened his mouth, then closed it again, a few times over. Eventually, he squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Yeah, okay, fair enough. I’m not sure I have any authority at _all_ to make a deal like that, but… we can’t afford to be making any enemies.”

“Should your superiors have a problem with the conditions laid out, please do send them our way." Ezekiel motioned with his cane, drawing attention to not only Shiva, but the entirety of the royal guard.

“I would use the term ‘superior’ _very_ loosely.” Jesus flashed them a tight smirk of his own. “The only way he’d ever leave Hilltop is if his own life depended on it.”

“Then his opinion is of no interest to the King,” Ezekiel said loftily. “There is still much to discuss here, but we will require more than a little time to negotiate what we can and cannot spare. Should you care to join us for supper, we can write up a proposal later this evening that will benefit all involved.”

Jesus considered the offer for a long moment. The daggers Richard was glaring into him were more than a little off-putting, but that was, ultimately, what made up his mind.

“Yeah, why not? I can spare a night. Supper sounds great.”

* * *

When the meeting in the theater adjourned, Violet slipped away to process what had happened, and to change into clean clothes. It did little to cure the exhaustion settling into her bones, and the urge to snuggle down and relax somewhere comfortable and warm was strong. But there would be no way to shut off her brain, not just yet.

So, she tracked down Esme, and found her enjoying a cup of pre-supper tea with Prue in the shade of one of the trees towering over a gazebo. Given that she had company, the summary of Violet's day so far had been brief - "No, that's it, I'm not going back again, I promise. Oh, this new guy? Their community wants to trade, but it's all still up in the air right now. How are _you_ two doing?" Before she left them to it, she swooped down to kiss Esme's cheek and muttered a quick, "Tell you everything later," into her ear.

The King had extended an olive branch by inviting Jesus to stay, but his reasons for being there in the first place hadn’t warranted a tour, or any alone-time, quite just yet. Violet was glad he hadn’t been kicked out – there were questions burning on her tongue that he would surely have the answers to.

She made her way back to the theater where, in the foyer, sat Gus, Theo, a dark-haired woman from Jack's crew called Emily, and the man of the hour himself, Jesus. To prevent access to the rest of the building, the hallway doors were sealed tight. It was the first time Violet had ever seen them closed. Though Jesus had already proved that his jig was up and there was no need for such extensive security measures, the news he’d arrived with had left them all more than a little shaken.

“Hey, guys.” Violet greeted them with a weary smile, and slumped into the spare seat next to Gus.

“Hey, Vi,” Theo said. “Ezekiel’s not here.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I wasn’t looking for him.” It was an innocent statement, and yet her stomach still twisted pleasantly at the mere mention of the King. “I’m actually here to talk to Jesus.”

Four sets of eyes turned to Jesus, who was sitting between Theo and Emily, one battered boot kicked up casually on his knee. Upon getting a proper look at Violet, a flash of recognition crossed his pretty face. It didn’t escape her notice, but she would put a pin in it until the more urgent matters were addressed first.

“Uh... Sure. What can I help you with?”

“Your community – Hilltop. Have you picked up anybody new in the past couple of weeks? A man, or a woman, or a set of twins? Maybe all four?”

“Not to my knowledge, no. We don’t really go looking for people to take in. The Saviors, on the other hand…”

“They're the parasites you were on about, right?” Gus cut in.

“The very same.” Jesus chuckled drily at the epithet. “That’s their whole gimmick. _Saving peopl_ _e_ in exchange for half their loot. The only thing anybody needs saving from is them.”

“How bad is it, honestly?” Violet asked, sliding her hands beneath her thighs. Unease was beginning to curl in her gut, and with it came a strong impulse to chew her nails to the quick.

Jesus sighed heavily and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. Curiosity got the better of the rest of them and they leaned forward in anticipation, desperate for any shred of information about other survivors.

“It’s... It's _bad_. If they picked up your friends, you’re not getting them back, I’m sorry.” The grim undertone to his words sent another shiver of foreboding through Violet.

“But they'll be okay though, right? They don’t kill the people they pick up?”

Jesus exhaled sharply through his nose and let his hands fall to his thighs. “I can’t guarantee you something like that.”

“But you said they _look_ for people to take in! Why would they do that? Why would they save people and kill them later?"

“Because Negan is a time-bomb. And no one never knows when he’s gonna go off,” Jesus said, levelling Violet with a serious stare.

“And who the fuck is Negan?” Gus sneered, taking the words right out of her mouth.

The hallway doors were thrown open before Jesus could reply, and Richard strode out into the foyer. Still the picture of fury, he stormed past without a flicker of acknowledgement to those who sat there. Behind him, at a much calmer pace, came Jack, Dianne, Jerry, and then finally, Ezekiel.

A surprising prickle of tears touched Violet’s nose and wet her eyes when she saw the King, free of his armour, and wearing a fresh, dark grey shirt beneath his beige coat. The memory of his warm embrace rushed in to soothe the sudden tightness in her chest. She would’ve given anything in that moment to fall right back into it again.

“Ah, you’re all still here." A small furrow appeared on Ezekiel's brow; he recognised that they'd interrupted something, but couldn't discern what. “Shall we head over to the dining hall?”

Jack laid a heavy hand on Jesus’s shoulder when he stood up. Another careful precaution done in a manner that could’ve been construed as casual – friendly, even. “It’s not so much a dining hall as it is just a plain old cafeteria. The pantries were fully stocked at the start of the break-out, and oh _man,_ the cooks work miracles…” They led the way out of the theater, but Violet, arms wrapped around herself, hung back to fall in step with Ezekiel and Jerry.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” Ezekiel automatically laid a hand on her back to guide her.

“Jesus said – no, he _didn’t_ say my friends were still alive, but… That group he was telling you about? They _might_ have picked them up?” Heat spread from the point of contact between her shoulder blades, relaxing her enough to let loose what was on her mind. “But he _also_ said that isn’t a guarantee that they’re safe, and – and Derek and Heidi aren’t very diplomatic, and Sara will go feral if Sebastian didn’t make it and I – I’m just… worried. What happened to them? What’s going to happen to _us?”_

“Jesus has said a lot of troublesome things today.” Ezekiel rubbed her back gently. “There is nought any of us can say to lessen your fear of this new unknown. We appear to have found ourselves in quite the quandary, but come what may, you do not have to face it alone.” Hesitantly, his hand slid up to her shoulder and he pulled her closer.

“He’s not wrong!” Jerry said blithely. “You and Mama Winters are a part of this now. And if you guys are anything to go by, I don’t think you’ve gotta worry about your friends either. It’s all gonna work out, Vi, just you wait.”

“As you can see, little dampens his spirits,” Ezekiel said, rolling his eyes down to meet Violet’s. Tucked against his side, the chill in her bones was beginning to recede. Fear didn’t stand a chance in the face of their unwavering optimism, as foolish as it might be.

“Can I hold you to that, Jerry?” she asked.

“I’d be mad if you didn’t, shorty,” Jerry grinned. “We’ve got this, don’t we, boss?”

“We certainly do.” Ezekiel gave him a fist-bump, and simultaneously gave Violet a quick squeeze. The warmth of their companionship swirled around her, and she gave into it with a wistful sigh. Before she could change her mind, she wound an arm round the King’s waist and pressed herself further into him. They shared another look. In answer to the question written all over her face, he adjusted his arm to lie more securely round her shoulders.

There was no telling exactly what kind of future was coming for the Kingdom, but this, at least, was an absolute certainty: these people weren’t going _anywhere_.


	9. Brace Yourself (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took far longer than I expected to upload! Life really kicked off and I've been so busy, I never really found the time to sit down and edit this chapter. Even now, I feel it's still a bit rougher/choppier than the others, and for that, I apologise. I just really wanted to get an update out one way or another to get back into the swing of it. I promise the next chapter won't take as long to get to you. Thanks again for all your patience, and enjoy! x

-  
 _You feel me, but do you really believe?  
_ -

There wasn’t a soul left in the Kingdom who didn’t know they weren’t alone in the world any more. Jesus was a star attraction in the cafeteria; all eyes were on the clean, well-groomed man and his stylish leather duster they’d been hearing whispers of all afternoon. 

“Some of them are looking at me like I really _am_ the Messiah.” He noted after another kid walked by slowly, jaw hanging open in awe.

“That’s because no one ever shows up here looking as good as you do,” Jack said. “They’re all either dirty or starving or half-dead. Sometimes all three.”

Despite Jack having led the party Jesus had tried to infiltrate, the two of them had been hitting it off. That vexed Richard to the point where he’d chosen to sit a table over and keep a watchful eye on them from a distance instead. His irritation at their benign conversation led to Violet filling his space at their table on an invitation from Ezekiel himself.

Self-consciousness clouded her delight now they were surrounded by prying ears and eyes, and she’d eaten in relative silence. It would've been some feat to get a word in edge wise anyway, what with Jack and Jesus chatting up a storm. So, at least they'd given her a good reason to be sitting quietly.

“Gregory’s very picky about who he chooses to let in to Hilltop.” Jesus wiped his mouth and laid the napkin back onto his tray, still folded. “If we can help them, we will, but more often than not he’ll just send them packing. He’s not the biggest fan of change at any level.”

“Then how the hell did you guys end up working for –”

“Jack,” Ezekiel interrupted quickly. “Not here.”

“Ah, right, yeah, sorry.” Jack looked around the table. “Okay, well... Is everyone about done?”

“Just about!” Jerry hurriedly scooped up two heaped forkfuls of mashed potatoes.

“Perfect. I’m going to go check in on the boys, just come and get me when we’re ready to head out.” Jack made to stand up with his tray, but Violet reached for it across the table instead.

“Hey, you can just leave that. I’ll see to the trays.”

“Thanks, sweetheart!” Gratitude lit up Jack’s face, but as his gaze slid over to Ezekiel, his lips curved into a devilish smile. “Cute _and_ helpful? If you don’t keep her, Your Majesty, I will.”

“Duly noted, my friend,” Ezekiel said brusquely. His cheeks darkened, and he was suddenly very busy with gathering the used trays into a pile. He couldn’t meet Violet’s eye as she lifted them from his hands. It appeared that suggestion had left him more than a little flustered, the same way his reaction to it had left a tingling sense of excitement beneath Violet’s skin.

The kitchen didn’t look like much from the other side of the counter, but beyond the heavy swing doors, it was long, roomy, and blindingly clean. The younger members of the community had a strict rotation between them and since it was one of the only jobs they could do to help out, they took it very seriously. It was strange times indeed when a group of kids actively and enthusiastically stuck to their chore-chart.

None of them were done eating yet so, while Violet was there, she filled up the deep sinks with warm water and dropped the trays in to soak, giving them a little bit of a head-start.

She was absently drawing her hand through the soap bubbles – how had she never appreciated the gentle fizz as they melted against the pads of her fingers? – when the doors swung open and in barrelled Jerry.

“That is _not_ your job." He dumped his empty tray in the sink and wiped his hands against his hips. “You coming with us or what?”

Violet blinked. “To the meeting? In the gardens? Am I… allowed?”

“Are you allowed?” He scoffed, rolling his dark eyes. “C’mon, shorty. Boss man’s breaking out a fresh bottle of bourbon for this. When was the last time you had a drink?”

“Oh, wow, um… _Way_ too long ago. I don’t think I even remember what alcohol tastes like,” Violet said, turning to watch him load a new flat tray with short glasses.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Àndale, àndale!”

“Alright, I’m going, I’m going!” Violet darted past to hold one of the doors open for him. After everything that had already happened today, was there really any point in arguing that she _didn’t_ deserve to enjoy a drink with the people had saved her both figuratively _and_ literally?

The people in question were now congregating at a table near the exit. Jack was leaning on the chair occupied by his youngest son, Henry, tipping it carefully onto it’s back legs while the boy squealed in delight and gripped his father’s forearm for support. Jack’s eldest son, Benjamin, was shaking hands with Jesus, calm and welcoming.

Across the room, where Esme was still eating a hearty meal with Prue, Nabila, and another one of the gardeners, Dean, she waved at Violet. There was a healthy, silver shimmer to her mass of curls since she’d been able to keep a steady diet and self-care routine. Kingdom life agreed with Esme, and it hadn’t taken her long to realise she agreed with it too, just like they all knew she would.

Violet waved back and blew her a quick kiss, mouthing the words, “Love you!”

They hadn’t had the chance to enjoy what they’d found together yet, not properly. So, now that the search was off, and Violet was ready to fully commit to life inside the walls, the first port of call would be to simply spend a day with Esme. Just one, peaceful day of relaxation; strolling the grounds, drinking tea, making friends. The most exciting thing that could happen would be catching a glimpse of the resident tiger.

Upon returning to the group, Jerry beamed and held up the tray of glasses. “We’re back! Who’s ready to get lit?”

“Jerry…” Ezekiel shot him a warning glance. “Need I remind you this is _not_ a soiree?”

“But it _could_ be.”

“Not tonight, my friend,” Ezekiel’s breath caught on a weary sigh. “Let us be on our way.”

Jack bent low to kiss the crown of Henry’s head, and ruffled Benjamin’s hair on the way out. He fell into step beside Jesus, who’d had the good sense to wait for one of, if not, the _only_ person who had already accepted him fully as an ally.

Their destination was a secluded alcove behind the school, and it was one of the most beautiful set-ups the Kingdom had to offer. Hidden behind a solid white fence, the Royal Garden was shrouded in greenery, thick bushes, and fruit trees in various stages of growth – some had been planted and cared for years before the End, and others had been purposefully moved there to pad out the borders. Having been remodelled from a recreational enclosure, there were beautifully carved stone benches covered in small, colourful cushions dotted along the sides, and three large fire-pits in a line down the middle.

The warm ambiance that cloaked the Kingdom was increased ten-fold here, like this was the beating heart from which the magic bled. As soon as Violet crossed the threshold, the rest of the world ceased to exist. Utterly enchanted, she almost stopped in her tracks just to digest the overwhelming sense of wonder threatening to floor her.

“I’ve been here for two weeks, and I… I thought I was getting used to the charm of this place, but…” She spoke slowly, struggling to articulate the thoughts and emotions this tiny little pocket of the Kingdom was invoking within her. “I’m speechless.”

“It was one of the first orders of business following the King’s ‘coronation.’” Ezekiel hooked his fingers around an air-quote. “It would have been a disgrace to everything we stand for to let it grow over into ruin.”

One by one, he lit the fire-pits, bathing the space in a gentle orange glow. The knights got to work re-positioning the benches into a wide semi-circle around the top two, while Violet drifted back towards the third.

She'd just raised her palms to soak up the heat when an unexpected flash of sorrow broke through her enthralment. With a start, she realised she was crying. Gently, she dabbed at her cheek, and stared down at the wetness on her fingertips, sparkling in the light of the low flames.

“Yo, Vi? You good?” A hand touched her shoulder, and she gasped, jumping out of their reach. Realising his mistake, Jerry stepped back quickly. The glasses shivered and clinked on the tray he still held tightly in one hand. “Whoa! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s… it’s fine.” Violet exhaled shakily. “It was – I couldn’t – I was just… in a world of my own there. Are _you_ good?”

“ _I’m_ good, yeah,” Jerry laughed, albeit weakly this time, and relaxed his position. “I was coming over to say that if you wanted one of the good seats, you best grab one before Richard and Dianne get back with the spare chairs. They are _not_ comfortable, dude.”

“Sure, sure, yeah… Thanks.” Still frowning, she swiped the remainder of the tears from her cheeks.

It didn’t escape Jerry’s notice, and without any further hesitation, he took it upon himself to steer her to one of the benches. Everyone who wasn't off retrieving something for the evening was starting to settle down, or mill around the fires, warming up while they waited.

“Seriously, they’re bringing back those – you know those hard plastic ones? All the good camping ones are claimed, and we won’t be getting more for at least a few weeks, and that’s only if they haven’t been snatched up by survivors in the city. We don’t _think_ there’s too many people left out there, but after today, what the hell do we know?” Jerry kept up a light string of comforting babble until she was seated and he’d lowered himself down next to her, setting the tray on his lap. “Just relax, shorty. If you weren’t meant to be here, Ezekiel wouldn’t have – Oh, hey! Speak of the devil!”

“I was making sure Theo was aware of which bottle to bring… Have I missed something?” The King came to a graceful stop in front of them and smoothed the front of his coat. The mere sound of his voice did wonders to calm Violet’s shaken psyche. Wherever he went, light followed, and she was fast becoming addicted to it.

“Nope, just making sure Vi didn’t get stuck with one of the old school chairs,” Jerry elbowed her arm, and shot her a wink.

“Yep… Best seat in the house. Thanks, Jerry.” She hoped he could hear the deeper meaning in her gratitude. There was no way to express her appreciation for his quiet empathy, so she did the first thing that came to mind: she held up a closed fist. A wide smile splashed easily across his face and he nudged it with his own fist, large and solid as a rock against hers.

Ezekiel watched their exchange with great interest. He caught Jerry’s eye and a few silent words passed between them before he cleared his throat and motioned towards the extra space on the bench. “Is there room for one more?”

There wasn’t _a lot_ of room per se, but Violet patted the cushions next to her anyway. Having to squeeze in close enough that their hips pressed together didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, it didn’t feel like a stretch to think it might even have been intentional on his part. Not when he fixed those beautiful brown eyes on her face, offered her a small smile of reassurance, and held out his hand for her.

Quietly, so only she, and possibly Jerry could hear, he dropped the regal accent. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Violet slid her palm into his, blinking furiously against the prickle of more tears. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m right here with you.” He twined their fingers together and squeezed tightly. It was a firm reminder that she could let go; he would catch her if she needed him to, just like he’d done on the highway.

On the bench to their right, Jesus and Jack were getting into an animated discussion about the moment they’d almost hit Jesus with their truck. Jesus’s hat and gloves had been tucked into a pocket of his coat, and one leg was crossed over the other. The Kingdom was working it’s magic on him now too - he knew he was safe enough to let his guard down here.

Across from them, Chelsea was almost fully reclined along the length of the bench, leaning back heavily into Gus, who had an arm hooked securely over her collarbone. Both of them looked like they were about ready to fall asleep, comfortable and cosy in the glow of the fire.

“Hey, guys! Phew, I thought you were gonna start without me. Scoot up, Jack, you’re in my seat!” The calm atmosphere shattered when a short blonde whirlwind streaked through the garden, already throwing herself down next to Jack and Jesus before either of them could register that she was there. Without missing a beat, she leaned over Jack and stuck her hand out towards Jesus. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly yet! I’m Kayleigh.”

“Hi, Kayleigh.” Jesus chuckled and shook her hand. “You’re a knight, too?”

“Sure am! These guys would’ve _literally_ been lost without me at the start.”

“Is that right?”

“Kayleigh was, and continues to be, an exceptional asset to our community. Do not underestimate her.” Ezekiel slipped straight back into his royal persona to back up the brag, and she beamed at him, proud as punch. But the second she noticed Violet by his side, their clasped hands resting where their thighs met, her jaw dropped, and she sucked in a breath.

Violet tensed, bracing herself for the bombardment of excited questions that she genuinely had _no idea_ how to answer, when they were saved by the timely arrival of Dianne and Richard.

They distributed their stacks of chairs evenly around the fire and between the benches for anyone who still wasn't seated. Jerry used that time to inform Violet that there had already been more than one incident in which _someone_ had left these a little too close to the flames and returned to plastic dripping down the slim metal legs.

“Aw, _man_ , are you guys ever gonna let that go?” Kayleigh whined. “Ollie and Matt could’ve moved it the first time, but they didn’t, so…”

“Oh, I see! Blaming the ones that aren’t here to defend themselves, are we, kiddo?” Jack yanked her into a playful headlock, and just like that, whatever she’d been about to say regarding Violet and Ezekiel was forgotten.

Theo returned not minutes later with one bottle in his hand, and another peeking out from one of his jacket pockets. In his other hand, he carried a small fold-out table that he leaned up against the bench next to the King.

“There wasn’t a whole lot left in this bottle, I thought I might as well take it… Just in case.” Theo handed Ezekiel the half-empty bottle of spicy rum from his pocket. He kicked open the table, and Jerry handed over the tray of glasses. “One of you come help me with these, would you?”

Emily, a pale, dark-haired woman from Jack’s group of fighters, hopped up out of her seat to pass out the glasses Theo filled. When she served Ezekiel, she gave a sprightly little bow and a quick, "Your Majesty."

“Does the novelty of that ever wear off?” Jesus asked, having noted the sincerity behind the words and actions of the knights.

“It seems there is only one way to find out,” Ezekiel said, taking a sip of his drink, making a small noise of contentment. “Mm, this was a good find. What do you drink at the Hilltop?”

“Whatever we can get our hands on. We’re looking into making our own vodka one day though. I’ll be sure to save you a bottle if we ever get the chance.”

For the next short while, conversation was light. They could’ve all listened to Jesus talk about his home for hours; he painted a beautiful picture of the mansion on the hill, the military trailers that had been abandoned there at the start of the End, and the huge wooden fences they’d built to protect it using lumber from the surrounding forests and a nearby mill.

“It used to be a museum of sorts. You know the kind where you go and see what big, rich families used to live like back in the day?” Jesus explained. “The information there turned out to be especially handy for teaching us how to survive this world.”

“A museum?” Violet perked right up at the word. For the most part, she’d been quietly savouring the sweet burn of bourbon in her throat, and the long-forgotten heat it spread throughout her body. Already it was doing a wonderful job at loosening her limbs, and now, her tongue.

“Oh, it’s not national _or_ natural history size!” Jesus laughed. “It really was just a big, old family house, nothing too special. Until now, that is. It’s perfect for what _we’re_ using it for.”

“Hey, whatever the size, I’d love to visit some day. Taking a road-trip to a museum that _isn’t_ infested with Wasted would be amazing.”

“You’re more than welcome! It would be nice to have visitors there to just admire the exhibits as they are instead of taking them for their own.”

“Well, I can’t promise that I won’t try and haggle someone for a nice painting…” Violet tapped the rim of her glass against her chin, pretending to think hard.

Her teasing grin fell when Jesus watched her for just a moment too long with that same look of recognition he’d worn in the theater. This time, she stared him down, head tilted slightly while trying to place _his_ face. But she held no memory of this man, Before or After.

“Tempted to rethink your living situation?” Ezekiel gave her hand two quick squeezes. Between the nature of his joke, and the press of his palm, confronting Jesus was pushed quickly to the back of her mind.

“Not a chance!” she said immediately. “Why, are you trying to get rid of me already, Your Majesty?”

“Not a chance.” Ezekiel squeezed her hand once more, sending her heart soaring.

The mention of a road-trip for nothing more than to enjoy a piece of history had intrigued more than a few of the knights. There was no resisting the chance to experience something mundane from Before, something they’d all believed to have been lost to this new way of life. Jesus was winning them over on the promise that, working together, they could easily get that back.

By the time Emily passed the bottle of bourbon around anyone who needed a refill, at least four of them, Kayleigh included, were buzzing with the thought of visiting this neighbouring settlement. They all began their own plans that included a picnic, a bus-load of anyone else who wanted to join them, and even taking the kids on an educational field-trip if it proved to be safe enough the first time round.

Then Jesus told them about one of Gregory’s most prized possessions – an antique record player. Sensing an opening there, Ezekiel promised to add ‘vinyls’ to the list of things to keep an eye out for on supply runs as a gesture of good-will. In return, Jesus promised to keep an eye out for cassette tapes and film reels for the Kingdom, even though the latter was far rarer than even medicine now.

It was from that point the conversation moved itself into more serious territory, but it came about so organically that spirits remained high and equable.

“How many horses do you have here?” Jesus motioned vaguely with his glass, which was almost half-empty again.

“Eight. It is not ideal for our forces, but we make do.” Ezekiel shrugged one shoulder. “Our horse-mistress, Anita, would have one for each of us if she could! But we simply do not have the ways and means to rescue more as we currently stand.”

“We might be able to help with that? There’s a blacksmith at the Hilltop. If you guys need horse shoes or anything for your stables, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind making you some.”

“You guys have an actual, working _forge?_ ” Violet asked, surprised.

“We do, yeah.” Jesus nestled back into his coat which had long been discarded and bunched up behind him. “It’s mainly used for gear and weapons, most of which we don’t get to keep anyway. We don’t have the slightest clue how to make anything that _you_ might need, but Earl won’t say no to the challenge.”

“Is farrier work something you’re familiar with?” Ezekiel’s thumb swept over Violet’s knuckles.

“Kind of?” She fought to keep her thoughts together, and not on the gentle brush of his skin against hers. “I’ve never seen the shoes being _made_ , but I know how to take them off and put them on again. In theory, anyway. Anita said she’ll train me to do it properly next time they need replaced.”

“Yes, I doubt we’d have gotten much use from them without her expertise, but her supplies will be running out sooner rather than later.” Ezekiel continued to absently rub the back of her hand. “We can get you the information you need before you leave us, Jesus, thank you. Access to a blacksmith will be… invaluable.”

“It’s the least we can do for granting me a royal pardon.” Jesus winked. There was a small scattering of laughter, but Richard looked to be in physical pain as he stared into the flames of the nearest fire-pit. Gus, also, didn’t seem to be warming to Jesus; his hold on Chelsea visibly tightened when she snorted at his joke.

“The King will not forget your attempt to burgle this realm… But you have given him more than enough reason to forgive it.” Ezekiel looked at each member of his guard, lingering on those who weren’t feeling so merciful. “We _must_ strive to better than those who are governed by their own greed . Those who have Hilltop by the throat do not seek trade nor friendship. They do not give… they leech. And if we are to prevent them from bleeding the life out of every one they can sink their teeth into, we _need_ allies.”

When he spoke, his guard listened. Even the ones that looked away in shame. Some were too enraptured to do anything but stare, and Violet was one of them. There was passion not only in his words, but his face, glittering like gold in his eyes. In the light of the fire, he positively glowed.

“Perhaps it _is_ derisory to place such trust in a stranger. But where would any of us be right now if we had not already taken such a risk ourselves? Fear _cannot_ define who we are, not even in the face of this new world's selfish hunger. We _will not_ let it take the heart of us.” Ezekiel’s grip on Violet’s hand tightened. “The Hilltop will receive the Kingdom’s patronage. Together, we can build a future that not a single soul, living or dead, can steal away. And it starts here, tonight, in faith and amity.”

In the silence following his ardent speech, goosebumps prickled across Violet’s skin, raising even the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. _He’s incredible._

“ _Hell_ yeah! Cheers to that!” Jerry boomed suddenly. He raised his glass, then threw the rest of his drink back and gave a loud, “Woo!”

“Yeah! Well said, my man!” Jack followed suit, but quickly gasped and sucked at his teeth until the fire in his throat subsided. All around the circle, approval ranged from quiet murmurs to loud shows of solidarity.

“Thank you… Your Majesty,” Jesus said, voice thick with tears. In acknowledgement, Ezekiel tipped his glass towards him.

When his gaze slid back down to check on Violet, she was still staring up at him, transfixed. The pride on his face deepened to see the effect he had on her, but she couldn’t find it within herself to be embarrassed. He was _amazing,_ and to be sitting right by his side, hand in hand with him… It filled her with a dizzying sense of pride too, but also with a deep, fierce certainty.

Ezekiel was everything she’d been waiting for. All it had taken to find him was the end of the whole damn world.


	10. Let It Roll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very light in comparison to all the doom and gloom of the previous! It's my favourite one so far. But because it might be triggering for some people, I'm giving a CONTENT WARNING: there are heavy mentions of alcohol consumption, drunkenness, hangovers, etc. If that's not your thing, I'll catch you in the next one ^.^ x

_-  
Take a breath,  
We’ve got all the time in the world.  
-_

Before Violet even opened her painfully sticky eyes, she decided it was _too bright._ With a low, disgruntled groan scraping up her bone-dry throat, she yanked the duvet over her head and turned onto her side. That small movement was enough to send a curl of nausea through her empty stomach, and she groaned again.

“Good morning, chick!” Esme chirped from somewhere in the room. “Feeling a bit tender today, are we?”

Despite being burrowed beneath the duvet, the volume of her voice made Violet flinch. Each sharp thump, temple to temple, further cleared the fog around her thoughts, but also made her acutely aware of the dull ache in her joints too.

“I think I’m dying."

“You’ve survived worse.” Unguarded amusement laced Esme’s tone. “There’s water by your bed.”

Violet pushed one of her arms out from her cocoon and fumbled blindly until her fingers met plastic. She lay for another couple of minutes with the bottle pressed to her clammy cheek, savouring its coolness.

“It’s still early enough to catch breakfast if you want.”

“What time is it?”

“Just past nine.”

“Oh.” Since the End, she rose with the sun. She should've already psyching herself up for another day on the road; planning ahead for the likely event of running into Growlers, double-checking her weapons, and her food and water supply. Lately, she'd already been on the back of a horse three miles outside the Kingdom walls by now. But here she was, still curled up in bed, still half-asleep, _hungover,_ of all things. Her futile quest to hunt down the remainder of her group was well and truly over, and the heavy weight of that realisation sunk straight to the pit of her stomach.

Carefully, she pushed herself into a sitting position, and pulled the duvet snug around her head and body, leaving only a small hole for her face. Bleary-eyed, she found Esme sitting in her wheelchair by the desk in the corner of the room.

“What you doin’?” she croaked.

Esme lifted her head from the large pad of paper she'd been sketching in. She took one look at Violet and a hand flew to her mouth, trying and failing to stifle a burst of laughter. “Oh, _Vi,_ how much did you drink last night?”

“Too much for someone who hasn’t touched a drop of liquor in over six months.” Violet scrunched her nose and sipped some water. It soothed her dry throat and spread throughout her chest in a slow, cool web. Another few sips, and a small sigh: “No blackout’s though, so at least I still know my limits.”

“The same cannot be said for Kayleigh.” Esme shook her head, chuckling. “I heard Jerry carried her back to her room.”

“He did…?" It took a second for the memory to solidify through the haze. "Oh shit, he _did!"_

Like tugging on a spool of film, that one memory unfurled the rest of the night in an overwhelming swirl. The stories told, the laughter shared, the empty bottles, and Ezekiel caving into the pressure of opening another; promises were made and deals were struck, tears were shed, and hugs were given freely. Everyone had succumbed to the magic in the air – magic that had brought life back into Violet’s weary soul.

“I _also_ heard that a certain someone left with the King.” Esme fixed her with a pointed look.

A flush of heat rose up Violet’s neck, and a slow grin tugged at her lips. Before it could give her away, she pulled the duvet around her face and fell back down onto her ‘bed’ – a single mattress without a frame on the floor next to Esme's.

“Who the hell have you been talking to?”

“No one in particular…”

“It was Jack, wasn’t it?”

“Stop avoiding the question and tell me what happened! I don’t want to be the last to know if you’re moving on to bigger and better things.”

Violet peeked out from her bundle of covers just in time to catch a flicker of worry on Esme’s features. “If I moved on to bigger and better things, you’d be coming with me, you know that right?”

“Violet…”

“Okay, okay!” Sighing, she pushed herself up onto her elbow, trembling slightly from the strain, and wiggled her head free again. “I was a little unsteady on my feet, so Ezekiel offered to walk me back here. Nothing scandalous happened, I swear.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.” She nodded, but another blush darkened her skin, one she couldn’t hide. “Well… Ah, there is… one more thing.” To avoid looking up, she picked at the lid of the water bottle. “We... We kind of made plans for… a date...?”

“A _date?_ _”_ Esme gasped. “You could’ve led with that! When? Where? What are you doing?”

“Yeah, well.” Obviously, she was overjoyed that she’d managed to snag a date with the _King_ of all people. Sweet, intelligent, _brilliant_ Ezekiel. But the last thing she wanted to do was turn it into a big deal and blow it all up before they even had a chance to explore what ‘it’ might be. “Look, how about I tell you everything over breakfast? But I _really_ need a shower first.”

“Alright, yes, but be quick about it!” Esme said, exasperated. “Will I meet you over there?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Violet heaved herself out of bed and took a minute to recalibrate. Their room pitched around her and churned her insides. Taking a deep breath in through her nose and releasing it through her mouth, she held up a hand. “Actually… there’s gonna be nothing quick about this. Can you go save me something, please? Just in case it’s all gone by the time I get there.”

“You spend _one_ day with the boss and think you can start ordering me around, huh?” Esme teased, already rolling herself to the door.

“Thanks, mama!” Violet deliberately ignored the remark and went about getting herself fresh clothes from her designated file cabinet-turned-dresser. Before she left the room, she draped her jacket over her shoulders and threw the hood up to shade her eyes from the light.

While going through the gruelling morning routine of making herself feel a bit more human again, she lost herself in the memory of last night to remind herself why it had been worth every second of this discomfort now...

* * *

“ _Aaaand yep, she’s out like a light,” Jack jiggled his arm slightly, and Kayleigh’s head slid further down his shoulder. Her cheek stuck on his shirt, pulling her mouth open, but she didn’t so much as flinch. “One of these days, she’ll learn to pace herself.”_

“ _You know fine what she’ll say to that." Chelsea exhaled a short laugh through her nose, and stretched her arms high above her head. “We’re gonna go before we crash too.”_

“ _This is a good place to call it, if any.” Ezekiel agreed. “How are you feeling, Vi?”_

“ _Comfy.” Exhaustion had long since taken it’s toll on Violet, at which time she’d decided her glass would stay empty for the rest of the night, and promptly melted into Ezekiel. And that’s where she’d stayed, tucked up nice and cosy beneath his coat. Right before the point where her eyes had almost closed, he'd looped an arm round her shoulders and let her rest against him, curled up against his chest. Her eyes had stayed open, but sleep had been pushed clean out of her mind.  
_

“ _I know, and I am sorry, but…” He patted her arm, gently spurring her on to sit up. “It’s time to go.”_

_Rubbing her eyes as she righted herself, she tried to tell him she didn’t want to go just yet, but what actually came out instead was a low, irritated grumble. Those who were left laughed while rising to their feet, save for Jack, who seemed unwilling to wake Kayleigh up._

_Gus, leaned heavily on Chelsea’s shoulders, and shot Violet a sloppy salute. “I hear ya, pipsqueak. But listen, listen - you’re drinking ‘til you drop next time, or – Wait, no! Chels, wait, wait!” He almost knocked Chelsea and himself into the firepit in his bid to shake Jesus’ hand. “Listen, you’re not so bad, man. Just don’t fucking – if you fuck us over, I’ll – I mean_ we’ll _fuck_ you _over back and -”_

“ _Gus, shut the fuck up and come on_. _” Chelsea adjusted her grip on him and yanked him away. “See you lot in the morning!”_

_Jesus would bunking in one of the guest ‘houses,' an old building at closer to the memorial garden than the school or the animals. Jack and Dianne would be staying with him, accompanied by Richard because, in his own words, he was the only one sane enough to know they should still be sleeping with one eye open around this guy.  
_

_After bidding Gus a goodnight, Jesus jammed his hat back on over his long hair, which they all now knew was silky soft. After her fourth drink, Kayleigh simply hadn’t been able to help herself and near begged him to let her run a brush through it just once so she could get a feel for the texture.  
_

_“Well, this has been… fun? It feels weird to use that word these days and actually mean it, but… Really, thank you, all of you.”_

_Ezekiel reached out and instead of shaking Jesus’ hand, he grasped his forearm in true theatrical fashion. “Thank_ you, _Paul Rovia of the Hilltop Colony. It has been a pleasure getting to know you tonight.”_

“ _You’re a strange one, Ezekiel, I’m not gonna lie.” Jesus returned the dramatic gesture with equal enthusiasm. “But I’m glad you gave me a chance.”_

_Violet finally found the energy to push herself up onto her feet, intent on also saying something nice to Jesus before they all went their separate ways for the night. But once she was standing upright again, the world spun, and stars popped in front of her eyes, and all she ended up saying was: “You know it’s Shiva that calls the shots round here, right?”_

“ _I kinda figured. You won’t catch me arguing with her, that’s for sure,” Jesus said._

_Just then, Kayleigh snorted in her sleep, and twisted as if trying to get more comfortable. Jack sighed and looked at them for help._ _Jerry answered his silent plea with the wide, easy smile that seemed constantly stuck on his face. “I’ve got her, dude, don’t worry about it.”_

_Even while inebriated, he remembered his own strength. He hoisted Kayleigh up into his arms carefully, like he was handling a small child. Despite his best efforts not to jostle her, she inhaled sharply and one of her eyes cracked open. She mumbled something incoherent before her head lolled back onto his chest and she was out again._

_Dianne put out the lingering flames on the only fire pit they’d kept lit, and they piled out of the gardens. On the first step out into the street, Violet tripped over her own feet and almost took a dive towards the ground._ _The only sober one there whose instincts were sharp enough to catch her was Richard. It was purely reflexive to grab her elbow and get her steady._

“ _Oops… Thank you!”_

“ _Don’t mention it,” he said, not unkindly. It gave her a flicker of hope that their relationship was moving from ‘rocky-at-best’ to ‘tolerable-at-best’ after all._

_Not two seconds later, Ezekiel was at her other side, presenting his arm with a flourish. “For fear of that happening again… May I escort the lady back to her room?”_

“ _Why, you most certainly may, my King! Many thanks to you!” Trying to mimic his pattern of speech, Violet giggled like a love-struck tween. She slid her hand over his forearm and couldn't help but give the firm muscle beneath her palm a gentle squeeze. Any man who handled a tiger on a chain and favoured a sword would of course have incredibly nice arms, but to have the honour of feeling it for herself sent a pleasant twist of warmth through her gut.  
_

“ _Close, but not quite. Soften the vowels a little, and take your time, smooth it out –”_

“ _What’s this? Royal training already?” Jack’s eyebrows jumped wickedly._

_That was all it took to dissolve Ezekiel’s air of majesty. “C’mon, man, get outta here!” He shoved at Jack with his free hand. The action held no serious weight; the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes said it all._

“ _D_ _on't worry_ _, my friend, I can take a hint! We will see you_ both _in the morning.” The assumptive lilt to Jack’s tone had Violet’s grip subconsciously tightening around Ezekiel’s arm. Spurred on by the alcohol in her system, a hundred different scenarios raced through her mind at how this could end up playing out for her, each one more bawdy than the last._

_Those indecent thoughts were so quick to consume her that she jumped when Ezekiel’s warm palm covered the fingers clamped around his arm. When she looked up at him, her eyes immediately zeroed in on his mouth. Still stuck on how desperately she wanted those lips to press against her own, to ghost across her neck and continue down, down, down… She didn’t even realise Jerry was walking away from them too until he yelled at her._

“ _Alright, I see how it is, shorty!”_

“ _Shit! Sorry, Jerry! Night!”_

_And then, there was just the two of them again, surrounded by a ringing silence. So much had happened, so much had_ changed _in the past fifteen hours – give or take – that it was hard to believe it was only this morning they’d set off together.  
_

“ _Wow… What a day,” Violet sighed._

“ _It was just one thing after another, wasn’t it?” Ezekiel’s coat started to slip off the shoulder he’d thrown it over, like even that was trying to prove his point. While they walked, he decided to just wear it again to save further hassle.  
_

“ _At least it ended on a high. So much for ‘not a soiree’ though.” Violet resumed her position on his arm once his coat was back on without even thinking.  
_

“ _Mm, that did get out of hand… It worked out for the best, I think. Parties have always been good for getting to know people and helping us forget what we’re living through. It was a win-win.” He continued to talk to her in his own normal voice, which was a little bit looser than what she remembered from earlier. It still gave her a thrill, and she wanted to hear more of it. With her inhibitions lowered, she had no problem telling him that either._

“ _I could listen to you talk all day, you know that?”_

“ _Yeah? Just like this? Or… Like this?” He slid momentarily back into his royal accent for comparison._

“ _Just like this,” Violet laid her hand over his. “Not that the whole ‘King’ thing doesn’t do it for me because it_ definitely _does. That speech you gave tonight? The one about coming together with Hilltop? Full-body chills, seriously. But… I’m liking the sound of just_ Ezekiel _too. You don’t have to be acting all the time.”_

“ _That is…_ very _interesting information, my lady.” He retained the regal charade while he tugged her closer, then dropped it to say: “But I can do ‘Just Ezekiel’ for you. I’ve been practising that one my whole life.”_

_The spark of excitement flared up from her stomach, bursting out of her in a breathless laugh. Was this really happening? Was he actually flirting_ back? _Or would they both be waking up in the morning wondering why the hell they’d said the things they did?_

_That single whisper of negativity did not linger. There was no way to find a hold when Ezekiel had her instead, walking through the Kingdom in a cliché scene from an old period drama. For tonight, she was nothing but a love-struck maiden hanging off the arm of a potential suitor, entirely free to indulge in the possibility blossoming between them._

_They arrived far too soon at the doors of the school block she resided in, but the sting of disappointment was slight. It was smothered by the butterflies he gave her by lifting their arms and twirling her beneath them, over the threshold and into the dark hall._

“ _You dance?” In her delight, she forgot to keep her voice down._

“ _Oh, I know a few moves.” Ezekiel swept in to place a hand on her hip, and spun her through the first steps of a basic waltz. “I can show you some time, if you’d like.”_

“ _Will there be music?”_

“ _There will be music… and maybe dinner?”_

“ _Sounds perfect.” Violet turned beneath his arm again, but the dizziness finally caught up to her and she swayed unsteadily. “Hmm – no bourbon though.”_

“ _No bourbon.” He pulled her to him and wound an arm round her back to keep her up-right. “How does a glass of our finest wine sound instead?”_

“ _Dinner, dancing_ and _wine? You_ are _a charmer, Ezekiel.”_

_The fifth door on the left was the room she shared with Esme. The frosted glass pane above the door handle had been covered from the inside, so there was no seeing in or out, but they certainly weren’t sound-proofed. And the last thing she wanted to do was wake Esme up and bring this moment to an awkward, screeching halt._

_Violet lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Thanks for making sure I got back okay. Who knows how many scrapes and bruises I would’ve ended up with otherwise.”_

“ _One too many, that’s for sure.” Ezekiel took one of her hands into both of his and held it against his chest. “So… How does Saturday evening work for dinner and a dance?”_

“ _That works for me. I’ll need to go shopping for something to wear…” She sighed melodramatically and draped a hand over her forehead. “I can’t_ possibly _go dancing with the King in leggings and a flannel.”_

“ _Whether you’re in the grandest of ball-gowns or the tattiest of rags, the King will just be happy to receive your company.” With a heated look, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Go now, get some rest.”_

_Violet's entire brain turned to static. All smart, witty, or flirty remarks were gone in an instant, replaced only by the heat of him, and how deeply she craved more of it._ _“See you tomorrow?” she whispered, barely aware of the words leaving her mouth._

_When he kissed her hand once more, she could physically feel the smile curving onto his face._ “ _You sure will. Goodnight, Violet.”_

“ _Goodnight, Ezekiel.”_

* * *

Back in the present, Violet sighed dreamily and finished tying off her wet hair into a braid, throwing it back over her shoulder. The giddiness of a crush never changed, no matter how old you got. The very thought of their smile; the sound of their voice and the timbre of their laugh; the heat of their hands upon your skin; or how _good_ they always smelled never failed to spark a warm fizz in your chest.

Before the End, she’d been no stranger to lust, but survival had been her one and only priority for months now. It had been _so long_ since anyone had ignited such feelings within her, she couldn’t recall if it had always affected her this way. However, when she thought back to the people she’d fallen into bed with over the years, the washed out memories gave her only one answer: she’d never wanted anyone like she wanted Ezekiel.

The cafeteria was blissfully quiet when she arrived. A few late-starters were finishing up their breakfast, or relaxing with a hot drink, and a couple of the teenagers were talking through the open divide to the kitchen, stifling yawns and rubbing their eyes.

Esme had bagged the corner table furthest away from prying ears. In front of her sat a large bowl of dry cereal with fruit on the side, and directly across from her, someone was hunched over, head buried in their arms. A purple and grey snap-back cap hung off the shoulder of their seat, and the hood of their black sweatshirt had been pulled up over their head to fully immerse themselves in darkness. There was only one person who could be in such a sorry state this morning.

“Do I even need to _ask_ how you’re feeling, kid?” Violet picked up the mug of untouched coffee by the sunglasses on the table and took a quick sip that immediately scalded her tongue.

“I love you, Vi, but please… be quiet.” Kayleigh’s arms tightened round her face, muffling her voice.

“And you thought _you_ were feeling rough, eh?” Esme swiped a pear for herself before sliding the tray over.

“Oh, she’s young, she’ll recover soon enough.” Violet dug into the dry cornflakes, trying to keep her mind off the craving for a thick, fat-soaked, bacon burger instead. “Get that coffee in you, Kayleigh. I’m going to drink the rest of it if you don’t.”

All they heard in response was a muted grunt. Violet exhaled sharply through her nose in a weak laugh, and shook her head. “Okay, fine. We can share it.”

“Alright, enough with the chit-chat. I’ve been waiting patiently, so spill. Everything.” Esme propped an elbow on the table, leaning closer to ready herself for the gossip.

“ _Everything?”_

“You heard me! Start from the beginning, with the handsome stranger. Is he really called Jesus?”

“His real name is Paul, but… Yeah, we’ve all been calling him Jesus. An old nickname apparently. I mean, it _is_ weird, he looks identical –”

“Don’t get sidetracked. You said his community wants to trade?”

Violet rubbed the side of her face and reached for the mug of coffee again. Leaving Esme out of the loop had never been an option, but a lot of new information had come to light since she’d last seen her yesterday afternoon. Not only was it a hard thing to revisit while feeling so fragile, but after Jesus had given them the full scope of the problem, they’d all reached the unanimous agreement to keep what they’d learned under wraps, at least until the Saviors came to their door next. And that unfortunately meant that Esme couldn’t know _everything_ quite yet.

“They do. They have a blacksmith so they’ll give us everything we need for the horses. We might be able to make a start on building a proper stable block with their help. It’s gonna take some time, obviously, but… I thought you wanted to hear about what happened with Ezekiel?”

It was the perfect diversionary tactic, one that worked even better than she’d hoped for thanks to the company of an extremely hungover, but still terribly curious young woman. Kayleigh lifted her head, her hair an untidy mess around blood-shot eyes. “You hooking up with the King, Vi?”

“ _No,_ we’re not hooking up.” Violet threw a singular piece of cereal at her, but she didn’t even have the energy to flinch away from it. “We _are_ having dinner this weekend though.”

“Oh, for real?” The corner of Kayleigh’s mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. “That’s awesome. I second what Esme said then. Spill, or I’ll just ask him what happened myself… When I’m sure I’m not going to puke my guts out.”

“Fucking _hell,_ you’re blunter than usual this morning,” Violet said, pressing two fingers into her temple. There was still a dull thump there, like a band had been tied too tight around her head. “I know you love your gossip, Kayleigh, but I need you to promise me you’re not going to tell everyone who will listen about this, okay?”

“But what if –?”

“No.”

“Not even if –?”

“ _No.”_

Kayleigh huffed and deflated again, laying her cheek on her forearms. “Okay, fine. I promise.”


End file.
